A Time Lord's Nest
by Viridis Lupus
Summary: A lot is left unsaid in the TARDIS...until now. And then everything comes tumbling out...whether they like it or not. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

Quiet, apart from a gentle humming, and eerily empty, the TARDIS control room was a peaceful, if slightly unnerving, place. There were no wildly flashing lights or shrieking sirens or even whirring, twirling bibbity-bobs that usually signalled the occurrence of something exciting but equally dangerous. There wasn't even a madman dashing around the console, tweaking knobs and yanking levers with as much gusto as a child on a sugar-induced high. It was just…quiet.

The lights were out and a bluish-green hue, cast by the heart of the living time-machine, was the only source of illumination in the large, open room. The unnatural atmospheric beauty and serenity of the place was almost breath-taking – well, if there was anyone in the room to take a breath. As it was, the occupants of the TARDIS were elsewhere.

In a comfortable bedroom somewhere in the depths of the ship lay an exhausted figure, curled up beneath her covers with her duvet pulled right up to her chin like a sleepy toddler, russet hair cascading onto her snow-white pillow. The delicate shells of her eyes were almost translucent in the gentle glow from the thousands of stars that bejewelled her velvety blue ceiling – they were 'a bit of the outside, on the inside' he had declared when she first moved in. Unseen by the sleeping girl, a shooting star traversed the sky, its fiery tail leaving a fizzing orangey-rainbow trail in its wake. It was as if someone had sprinkled glitter across a rich navy canvas or spilled sherbet across a table. The tanginess was almost tangible.

In all honesty, it wasn't surprising that the human slept so soundly because, when you battled aliens and monsters on a daily basis, it's bound to take it out of you. The only thing that sometimes upset such a well-deserved, _ached_-for sleep was the nightmares. The memories. But they only came on occasion.

As the girl slept, her companion waited for her to wake up. He would wander the corridors, listlessly sometimes, at a loss for something to do. On some nights there would be gadgets to fix, spare rooms to paint, books to read or artefacts to pour over but on nights like this one he merely lingered like some lost, old ghost, haunting the passages of his own time ship.

It wasn't that he didn't need to sleep, he just didn't like to, not any more. There was too much lurking in the darkest recesses of his mind waiting to come crawling out – to remind him of what he'd done and who he was. It was easier not to and somehow his body had adjusted to accommodate that. Time Lord Biology at its best. But, no matter how much he disliked lying in bed and letting the monsters cloud his brain, he never allowed his companions to do the same. They would sleep and he would be the one to make sure of that. Of course, it was easy to get caught up in the excitement of space and time and not want to waste a minute of it – humans were very excitable creatures – but that would not do in the long run. It was easy to forget when night and day occurred because, after all, they were in a time machine and the days did tend to meld together but, even so, he didn't want to be responsible for depriving them of their much needed sleep; it was part of the innocence they still held onto after all. A luxury he no longer had.

Several times throughout the 'night' he would check on his friends, just to make sure they were safe and sound asleep and not having nightmares. He was quite good at nightmare watch by now. It was as if his ears had attuned to the sound of distress and he was there within an instant, either to shake them from it or gather them into his arms after it had occurred. Although he would never have thought it, not when he was younger, but he was quite a good comforter these days. He supposed it was probably because he had experienced everything they had and twice as bad.

Considering his fiery haired companion had only been travelling with him a few weeks she had had a fair few nightmares and, unlike the others before her, she hadn't wished to share or explain. Therefore, he guessed, they weren't just a recent thing and perhaps weren't linked with the adventures they'd shared. By the intensity with which she'd screamed and thrashed and the physical strength which he had to apply to calm her, he guessed that the thoughts and emotions that caused the nightmares ran very, very deep.

_Four psychiatrists_.

That was the statement he always came back to and he had a really, really horrible feeling that the dreams were down to him. Perhaps, he had damaged her irreversibly.

Running a long-fingered hand over his smooth jaw and leaning back against the familiarly warm wall of the corridor, the Doctor contemplated the horrifying idea and found the guilt that came with it almost too much to bear. Instead, he buried it deep inside him like he always did and decided to distract himself. This was what always happened because he just couldn't take the thought of having ruined another life needlessly – so he took the coward's way out and he hated himself for it.

What could he do to pass the unending hours of this sleepless night?

* * *

Amy Pond woke up with something white on top of her face, suffocating her. She couldn't breathe. She let out a shriek of fear and lashed out, trying to dislodge whatever it was. Surprisingly, it fell away from her quite easily and gave in to her frantic punches like the malleable clay she used to pummel in art class. Oh, she suddenly realised feeling very foolish, it was the duvet.

Flushing, even though no one was actually here to see her ridiculous behaviour; Amy sat up in bed and allowed the once _very dangerous _duvet to fall carelessly onto the floor. Trying to compose herself, she coughed a little and ran a slender hand through her red locks, feeling her fingers catch on all the knots and tangles. Sighing with irritation, she slipped out of bed and dropped her feet into a pair of slipper boots that she'd taken to wearing round the TARDIS. They were very comfortable and protected her from all the very odd things that often seemed to be scattered around the place, ranging from a very spiky gizmo that she had painfully trodden on to what looked like a squirrel with a dragon wings that had skittered past her bare ankles. Yes, one couldn't be too careful.

Padding across the soft carpet, Amy stood in front of her mirror and glowered at the reflection which met her. She looked awful: pallid skin, matted hair, inky purple bags beneath swollen eyes and, if she wasn't mistaken, there was a _massive _spot peeping out from beneath the hair on her right temple.

"You have _got _to be kidding me!" she growled at the dishevelled face that stared back at her. "Ergh!"

She'd expected all this fresh air and exercise and planet hopping to be helping her pale Scottish complexion, not ruining it. Giving herself a rather vicious slap on one cheek, as if such retribution would change her appearance, Amy turned quickly away from the depressing image and considered getting dressed. But, frankly, she wasn't in the mood.

Stomping across her room once more, Amy grabbed the door handle and yanked her poor unsuspecting door open. The TARDIS made a sort of harrumphing noise which signalled her displeasure but the human girl wasn't interested. She was on a mission. A mission to find some good spot cream.

Several thunderous door slams later and Amy was still without any decent cream and she could feel the spot throbbing on her head as if to remind her that it was still there and still ruining her face like a miniature volcano – red and angry. After yet another disappointment where she found herself in a room full of hourglasses – she wasn't even going to ask – the flame-haired girl was about to give up and return, still spotty, to her bedroom when she came across a door that she was sure she hadn't seen before. Of course, she'd done lots and lots of exploring of the TARDIS already as the Doctor had encouraged her to 'take a gander' at all his nooks and crannies that were filled with bits and bobs from here, there and everywhere.

But this door was new.

Feeling a bud of excitement flourish inside of her, the young girl pressed lightly on the surface of the door – because it had no handle – and felt the warm, rough wood beneath her sensitive fingertips. Strangely, it felt very raw and very alive, more so than any other part of the spaceship. Tentatively, Amy pushed harder and found that the door swung open. The breath caught in her throat.

_Immediately _she knew this was the Doctor's room and _immediately _she got the feeling that she really wasn't meant to be in here; that she was intruding on a very private place but she just couldn't help herself. Amy was a very bold and very nosy person; once her slippered foot touched the wooden floor on the other side of the threshold, there was no going back.

In her chest, her heart thrummed with excitement, like a small bird flitting against her ribcage as she drank in her surroundings.

The Doctor's Bedroom.

An Aladdin's Cave more like. Every surface was littered with something: there were bits with things on and things with bits on; broken chairs with extra legs; ornately carved boxes nestled between shiny globes and techno-gadgets; richly woven tapestries depicting all sorts of weird and wonderful events from years gone by and years yet to come, well, from Amy's point of view at least; a brightly coloured croquet set laid out in one corner, how very Doctor-esque; a pile of bean bags and a motley collection of books towering beside them in a very precarious pile; a sceptre; a fishing net; two golden statues; a massive plastic dinosaur without a leg; a smattering of papers, some that looked like sheet music, well, that explained the piano and the other alien instruments that looked like they needed several mouths to play; an entire Chinese dragon, bedecked with streamers, ran along the length of one wall; a painting that looked like the Mona Lisa but it couldn't be, could it?

It was actually insane. There was too much to take in. Amy's eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"Bloody hell," she breathed, softly.

Cautiously, not wanting to disrupt anything major and leave evidence of her intrusion, Amy shuffled further into the room. Her eyes continued to scan the astounding place. It was like the Doctor had created his own microcosm of clashing cultures and alien worlds. She'd never had him down as such a hoarder. He was like an old woman!

A Time Lord's Nest. She should write a book.

There was even a dressing table – like one of those ones out of American films about Broadway, with lights and everything. The surface was scattered with creams and hair products and brushes. Wow, she didn't realise how vain the Doctor was. Then again, she guessed his hair didn't naturally end up with that much _fluffage_. And no wonder he had such nice, smooth skin what with all those ointments. She might just have to help herself to one of those. _Yoink_.

However, now she had got over her initial shock at the chaos she began to spot things and guessed these were the insights into the Doctor's life that she wasn't meant to see. For starters there was no bed, well, not a bed she could see under all the rubbish. Actually, that might be a bedstead over there, piled high with giant chess pieces. That suggested to her that the Doctor didn't sleep and there must be a reason for that because she knew he could, considering what had happened with the Dreamlord. Then there were the random pictures scattered haphazardly across a mosaic table – which she guessed was an original and not a copy – that showed images of people, mostly young and, she guessed, human but you could never tell. There was ginger haired woman with skinny man in a pinstriped suit and then the same man again with a dark skinned girl in a red leather jacket standing on a large rock in the middle of what looked like the Grand Canyon. There were several of this man and Amy couldn't help feel that she knew him somehow – it was something about the eyes.

And there he was again, this time with a young blonde woman who he was hugging in, what Amy viewed to be, a very protective manner. It was a one armed hug but she couldn't help but register the feeling that he would never ever let anything happen to that girl. Not on his watch. Then there was the same girl but a different man, short haired and with a large leather jacket. His ears were really big. There were several pictures of that couple with another man and they seemed to be dancing in the TARDIS.

Who were all these people? And why weren't there _any _of the Doctor? If these were his friends then why hadn't he been photographed with them?

A small frown line had worked its way between Amy's eyebrows as she placed the perplexing photos down and turned round to look at the rest of the Time Lord's bedroom. On the floor, she had noticed, towards the back of the room were a series of children's toys and she found they were what disturbed her the most. A soft looking pink teddy bear; a picture book about the moon; a broken rattle…a very small striped jumper laid delicately on a chair. A toddler's jumper.

_When they cry silently it cos they just can't stop, any parent knows that._

She remembered those words so clearly and she remembered the blank look that the Doctor gave her when she asked him if he was a parent. He just kind of froze. And here was the proof. The horrific proof that the Doctor once had children. But where were they? Why weren't they here with him?

He said he was the last of his kind. Did that mean his children were…dead?

**AN.**

**Okay, so I just feel there's a lot that goes on unspoken and I thought I'd try and give both the Doctor and Amy a voice. **

**Might end up romantic but who knows. I do like Eleven/Amy together though. I'll explain Rory's absence in my story at some point. :/**

**Please review. **


	2. Chapter 2

All those years ago when he had told her that the swimming pool was in the library, she had never believed a word. And yet here it was: a beautiful, airy space with vaulted ceilings and colonnades, like the cathedral that her aunt used to make her visit when she was younger. There were even a series of translucent stained windows pieced together out of delicate shards of coloured glass, set into the archaic stonework. A light of unknown origin shone through and made the oranges and reds glow like dying embers and the blues and greens sparkle like a sea studded with jewels.

Peculiarly, green climbers and flowering plants seemed to have found their way into the magnificent chamber and then curled lazily around the colonnades and ornate statues like emerald snakes, intermittently splashed with the purples and pinks and yellows of blossoms. They gave the place a wild feeling, like the outside was seeping inside and there was nothing that could be done to control it.

Although it looked like the interior of an abandoned church, there were signs of it being well kept. The bookshelves, for instance, tucked carefully into the alcoves between the towering colonnades were perfectly tidy – if a tad dusty – and meticulously ordered in a manner that was very un-Doctor-like. Perhaps, the TARDIS tidied herself. It wouldn't be surprising.

Volumes upon volumes of books, in varying states of condition, all rich with colour and waiting to be perused, used, loved. There must be more books in here than Amy had ever seen in her life, which she guessed wasn't really saying much, but there were a _lot_. And, considering how long the Doctor claimed to have lived, it wouldn't be a surprise if he had read them all – twice. Dragging her gaze away from the cute, rickety ladder that was balanced precarious against the edge of one bookcase, Amy's green eyes fell upon what she had been looking for.

The Doctor.

It was strange how differently she now saw him. And she wasn't sure if she liked it. An uncomfortable knot sat in her chest like a stubborn, immovable _thing_ and she wondered whether it could ever be undone. What she had seen in that room, what she had discovered….it changed everything.

Fluidly, the man who looked like a man but was actually an alien, sliced through the water with more finesse than a knife cutting butter. His body could have been made out of nothing for all the disturbance he left behind. Usually, when one swam they would leave a wake, swirling and rippling water, but the Doctor even seemed to defy that physics. He was impossible. Especially, considering the lack of elegance and poise that he possessed on land. Amy swore that he was probably the clumsiest person she knew. The way he moved was just…jumbled: wrists twirling at all the wrong angles; bandy legs and knobbly knees; floppy hair flip-flopping all over the place; poker-backed sometimes and arched at others and those _ridiculous _hand gestures. Well, she wasn't even going to start on those. The Doctor was just odd. An oddball bouncing around his massive spaceship looking for someone to stop him; to catch him before things got….

"Pond!"

Amy jumped, her eyes flashing down to focus on the man that had just been entangled in all her thoughts. He grinned up at her with that cartoonish mouth and sparkling, deep-set eyes, obviously very pleased with himself for having caught her off-guard.

"What's up?" He leant against the edge of the pool, sloshing water – quite deliberately – onto her slippers.

"Oi, watch it, you," she snapped, hopping back out of range. The Doctor offered her his best innocent expression. She wasn't fooled. "Don't try your puppy-dog eyes with me, Mister."

"What puppy dog eyes? This is my natural expression." The smirk that spread across his lips certainly was. "So, anyway, as I was saying, 'what's up'?"

She stared at him for a moment and toyed with her lip. Now was probably not the best time. She wasn't thinking straight and was bound to phrase everything wrong – that tended to happen this early in the morning when she hadn't had breakfast. Speaking of breakfast, her stomach grumbled loudly.

"You growing a baby monster in there, Pond?" the Doctor grinned.

"Of course," Amy deadpanned.

"Well, you should have told me! We'll have to feed him up and call him Albert and give him a bow-tie when he comes out," the Doctor rambled before halting mid-sentence and yelping, "Where was I? Oh yes, how are you this morning?"

Shrugging nonchalantly, Amy murmured, "Good."

"Good? Good? Well…I feel _great_! Early morning swim certainly washes away the night's cobwebs. Fancy it?" He ran a strong hand through his wet locks and gestured wildly with the other. Ah, there were the crazy hand flings she'd been missing.

"Hmm…" She made a point of looking like she was considering it, then, "No."

"No?"

"Yes, Doctor, no."

"Well, that's just confusing, Pond. Obviously, you are in two minds so I shall have to make the decision for you!"

And with that, quick as a flash and as lithe as an eel, the Doctor lunged across the smooth tiles at the edge of the pool and grabbed at his companion's slender ankle, swiping her off her feet and into the water with a loud screech – on her part of course.

The Doctor laughed hysterically as she thrashed about for a bit but his laughter soon died on his lips when the thrashing stopped and she didn't come up for air. His face a blank mask of horror, he dived beneath the surface and grabbed for his friend who was floating motionlessly at the bottom of the pool. His hearts thundered loudly in the eerie silence of the underwater atmosphere as he scrabbled against her cotton nightie before managing to grab her arm. _Gotcha_!

However, a sudden pain in his stomach forced him to let go and a torrent of surprised bubbles spewed from his mouth. What the…? Amy's eyes flashed open and she had time to arch one perfectly plucked eyebrow at him before propelling herself to the surface. Still feeling the ache in his abdomen, the Doctor followed suit.

"Good god, Amy, I thought you were dead!" he shouted as soon as he broke the surface and they were staring at one another. He wind-milled his arms to emphasise the point, bringing them down with a splash.

"And whose fault would that have been, eh?" The Doctor had the grace to look sheepish. "Yes, yours, alien boy."

"It was a bit of fun, Amy."

"Yeah, well I didn't enjoy it very much," the fiery Scottish girl yelled, splashing her way to the edge of the pool and hauling herself onto the edge.

"I could tell. You _kicked _me."

"Yeah?"

"In the stomach!"

"And?"

"It hurt," the Doctor said, indignantly.

"Yeah?" Would she stop using that word? "Well, you hurt me too!"

And with that she stormed away, sopping wet and obviously very, very angry. Stunned, the Time Lord watched her leave and wondered how on earth he could have upset her that much. He had been very careful when pulling her in to make sure she didn't hurt herself but maybe he'd miscalculated and she'd bumped her head or something. But that didn't really explain the explosive anger. Still, he had better check on her, she could have concussion or something.

Hopping out, agilely, onto the poolside, he considered grabbing a towel but decided that there wasn't time and instead hurried off down the corridor which Amy had taken. His wet feet slapped on the hard floor and he felt rivulets of water dripping down his smooth, pale skin making him shiver involuntarily. Where had she gone? Why was she being difficult about this? If she was injured then he needed to check her over.

"Amy? Amy?" he called, ducking his head into the various rooms that he passed and still not spotting her. "Pond? Amelia?"

It was as he shoved his head round yet another door that his hazel eyes fell upon her slender figure. She was hunched up on the floor in a room that was usually used for ballroom dancing with her arms hugging her knees and her shoulder blades sticking up into the air. There was a puddle slowly forming around her but she didn't seem to care. She looked awfully small and vulnerable.

"Amy," he murmured, rather bewildered, when he saw that her face wasn't only wet because of the dunk in the pool but also with salty tears.

Cautiously, he padded across the hard wooden floor and dropped down beside her. She didn't acknowledge his presence so, tentatively, he inched a little closer to her and reached out with nimble fingers in order to exam her scalp for bumps or bruises. As soon as he touched her, she jerked away.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, her thick Scottish accent giving an extra bite to the words.

"Checking your head. You said you were hurt?" the Doctor answered, earnestly, his eyes trying to seek out hers. When she didn't reply, he pressed again, "Where are you hurt, Amy? I need to check to see if it's serious."

"It wasn't physical," she mumbled into her arms.

The Doctor ducked his head towards her. "What?"

"I said." She looked up and glared, coldly, at him. "It wasn't _physical_."

"Oh." For a moment the Time Lord looked confused, then, "Oh…." He scratched the back of his own head, satisfied that his friend was okay in the material sense. Then he glanced at her again before gently peeling her arms away from where they were hiding her face. "Then what did I do to hurt you?"

Their eyes met for a second and the Doctor felt sure that he saw the truth glimmering in the depths of Amy's moss green orbs but then she looked away, abruptly, and shook her head. It was a very human reaction, especially when he saw that her lip was trembling and her eyes were shining. She was trying to fight down whatever emotions were causing her to react in this way.

"Amy?" he tried again. With a feather-light touch, he softly brushed his fingers along her cheek. "Please tell me, Amy."

"Your hands are cold," she said, bluntly.

"Well, I have just been in a pool and I'm not really wearing much." The Doctor gestured down at his flower-printed shorts. "Because I wasn't really thinking about me and being cold when I ran after my friend who claimed to be hurt and looked very, very upset." His hand dropped onto her shoulder. "You're cold and wet too."

"_Someone_ pulled me in."

"I know and I said I'm sorry but really, Amy, that can't be what this is all about…can it?" Astonishingly, the usually confident Doctor sounded unsure.

Amy glanced at him and then closed her eyes, tightly. "Trust me. It can."

**AN - Well then, I wonder what secrets _Amy _will be revealing before she can get any out of the Doctor. Or will it be vice versa?**

**Thank you very much for the reviews. **


	3. Chapter 3

An uncomfortable feeling sat in Amy's stomach as she knocked her head back against the wall and tried to avoid eye contact with the Doctor for as long as she could – which was surprisingly hard as he had very intense eyes. She didn't like talking about this. She _avoided _talking about this at all costs. And usually that wasn't too much of a task because people didn't ask or didn't want to ask; didn't want to meddle in the complicated problems of another human being. Unfortunately, the Doctor wasn't 'people', as he'd told her time and time again. He was his own unique brand of creature. Of course, she knew he was the last of his kind, the Time Lords, but somehow she knew he hadn't been normal among them either. There was something about him that suggested he was one of a kind: an intergalactic, time-hopping nomad with a penchant for running and an odd obsession with saving the human race.

Therefore, it wasn't surprising that he was determined to discover the problem that was plaguing her. That's just who he was and, in a way, it left her with a vague warm glow to know that, although he cared so much about everyone, he cared for her in particular – just because he'd crashed, by accident, into her garden when she was seven and allowed her onboard his ship. In that respect, she did feel privileged. However, at the same time, he drove her up the wall and she didn't doubt that she did the same to him. They had a passionate, rollercoaster of a relationship.

But that still didn't mean that she was comfortable sharing her innermost, darkest secrets with him. They were _her_ secrets. If he didn't feel the need to tell her about his past, his lost children, then why should she tell him about her tragic childhood? Just thinking about it made her feel sick.

This must have shown in her face because the Doctor suddenly placed a cool hand on hers.

"Amy?" There was so much tenderness in his voice that Amy wanted to hit him. How could he make her _want_ to spill her messy guts to him? The traitorous words were edging up her throat and then being lodged there by her fierce determination to keep silent. "Please, Amy, tell me what's wrong?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed his concerned expression and that just made her feel even worse. There was a small frown on his usually perfectly smooth forehead and his hazel eyes were imploring her to tell him the truth. Well, she wouldn't. No. No. _No._

When he didn't receive a reply, the Doctor just lapsed into silence once more, his fingers still curved over hers, his thumb gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand. She could tell that he wasn't going to leave. She could tell that this wasn't all going to blow over. Dammit. Why did she have to react like that? Why did she have to have such a fiery Scottish temper? If she had just shrugged it all off, acted like a normal person, then she wouldn't be in this awkward situation. Then again, if she had the ability to shrug it off then she wouldn't have this problem, would she? And she wouldn't be absolutely terrified of drowning, so much that it made her heart beat increase at the thought.

It was as if he could feel her heart beat through her hand – which he probably could because he was irritatingly amazing at that kind of thing – because as soon as she started to think about the water and the shock and…the past….his grip on her hand strengthened.

"Amelia?" he tried again – he was a persistent bugger, after all. "Are you okay?"

Amy attempted to say, "Fine", but it just came out as a kind of unintelligible grunt.

He sighed.

"But you're not fine, though, are you, Amy?" he said but it was almost as if he was speaking to himself. He probably was. In fact, she guessed that he was probably using that humungous, incredibly clever brain of his to work out exactly what was wrong with her. And she didn't doubt that he could. She could almost hear the cogs turning; the pieces of the jigsaw slotting into place. Did she want him to work it out or should she tell him?

"Is it because you can't swim?"

The words snapped her out of her thoughts and she turned to look at him, abruptly, eyes flashing like emeralds caught in the light.

"No!" she exclaimed, surprisingly offended. Perhaps, he wasn't as good at working her out as she thought. She thought she was quite obvious but then again, he hadn't got her hints in the bedroom, had he?

Seemingly relieved that he'd got some kind of reaction out of his stony companion, the Doctor released her hand – Amy felt a strange sense of loss – and threw his arms in the air. "What then, Amy? Because, frankly, I am at a loss."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," Amy quipped before she could stop herself. Immediately, she clamped her mouth shut but it was too late, the Doctor spun towards her, scrutinising her with those deep green-brown eyes. He cocked his head slightly to one side.

Finally he said, "Amy…_Amelia_, you're my friend," he paused, taking a deep breath, "So I'm not going to force you to tell me what is upsetting you but you should know that you will feel _so _much better if you just _tell _me." He ran a bony hand through his springy locks before adding, "I'm a good listener. You should ask the Gabbling Groob of Grenada."

Amy couldn't help herself, she spluttered.

"Ah!" The Doctor's face lit up, immediately. "There you go! Laughter is the best medicine."

"Oh, is that your professional opinion, Doctor?" Amy arched an eyebrow.

"Of course," he grinned. Amy felt a small smile tug at the corner of her lips but then she sobered up when she remembered what they were talking about – or, in her case, _not _talking about. She looked away.

Detecting the sudden change in her mood, the Doctor seemed to deflate, dropping back against the hard wall of the ballroom and staring up at the ceiling. He had almost dried off completely now but Amy could still see a few droplets of water dewing his creamy skin. Her nightgown was still damp and clung to her like a cold second skin, sending gooseflesh rippling up her arms. A little shiver shuddered through her but if the Doctor noticed he didn't say anything. He merely continued to stare, defeated, at the smooth swirls and patterns on the ceiling, his legs splayed out in front of him.

Vaguely, Amy knew that he was trying the silent treatment in the hope that she would fill the gaping void left between them. It was the oldest trick in the book – well, in her aunt's book anyway. She could recall numerous times when she was younger and hadn't wanted to talk about something until her aunt stopped being interested. Then she'd blurted everything out. And she could feel it was working again. The truth was on the tip of her tongue.

"I had a baby brother." And there it was. The floodgate had burst.

The Doctor turned his head _ever-so-slightly _in her direction, as if he didn't want to scare her, as if she was a deer that would spook at any moment. "I had a brother once too," he murmured.

Although that quiet statement intrigued her immensely, Amy knew that she had to keep going if she had any hope of ever getting this all out. "His name was Alfie."

"Alfred and Amelia Pond," the Doctor said, almost reverently. "Cor, your parents had good taste in names."

A tiny smile escaped his companion's pink lips but it vanished as quickly as it had arrived and she just looked immensely sad again. He felt his hearts go out to her and he didn't even know why yet. He knew it must be an awfully sad truth that he was about to learn because otherwise Amy wouldn't be acting like she was. Right now, with her head bent slightly forward and her hair falling into her face, she looked like a small, lost child.

He waited. Then…

"They all died."

"They?"

"My parents and my brother." Amy was deliberately not looking at him but all he wanted to do was to look at her; to comfort her.

"Oh Amy…" Was all he managed. Usually he was the lord of words but right now he was at a loss.

In a slightly choked voice, she continued, "It was…a car accident, Christmas Eve, coming back from church. Scotland's snowy at Christmas, you know….not like everywhere else. The road was icy…..Dad lost control." This was accompanied with a little shrug of the shoulders. "I remember screaming and then we were off the road and in a lake. Water _everywhere_." A sob hitched in her throat. The Doctor immediately leant over and took her head, pressing it against his chest as he hugged her close.

"It's all right, Amy, its all right. You can stop now." He comforted her, stroked her hair, but still, brave as she was, she continued, determined to get it all out.

"I was scared and all I could think about was getting out. I didn't think about anyone else," she murmured, her voice muffled against his skin. The Doctor could feel her hot tears trickling down his chest. "I just left them…pulled the door and left. My brother…Alfie…he was only two. He couldn't get out. I _left _him!"

"It wasn't your fault, Amy," the Doctor promised, soothing her as much as he could. He now understood the nightmares, the words he sometimes heard her whimper, 'I'm sorry! It's my fault! I'm sorry!'

"I got to the surface and waited….I _waited _but they didn't come up," she whispered, "They never came up."

Her breathing was becoming more rapid and gasping so the Doctor pulled her away from his warmth and tried to calm her.

"Amy, Amy, listen to me." He took her chin in his hands, looking her in the eyes. "It wasn't your fault, okay? You were a child. You were scared. It _wasn't _your fault. It was nobody's fault except the weather's. An _accident_. If you had tried to help then you would have died too."

"I should have," the slender girl hissed, bitterly.

"Never say that," the Doctor replied, fiercely. His fingers dug into her jaw a little more than necessary. "You did what you had to and you should never be sorry about being alive. Don't succumb to survivor's guilt. Have you got that, Amy?"

The intensity of his voice was a little frightening but Amy found herself nodding and she suddenly realised that perhaps, rather unintentionally, she had learnt something more about the Doctor, though she wasn't quite sure what yet. So, she just immersed herself in the pools of his eyes and tried to control the tears still spilling down her porcelain cheeks. Fleetingly, she thought that this would be a very intimate moment if it wasn't for the circumstances – their faces were extremely close – but she fought back the idea and cursed herself.

Fortunately, she was saved from awkwardness by another tremor that ran through her entire body. It felt very odd.

"You've been cold for too long, Pond," the Doctor said, seriously, "Come on; let's get you some warm clothes."

Abruptly, he jumped to his feet with a spring to rival a kangaroo's and leant back down to grab her hand. Tentatively, she reached up and felt the rough, strength of his grasp close around her slim fingers. His skin felt very warm compared to hers. With ease, he pulled her up and then put a comfortable arm around her before steering her firmly towards the door. She had the feeling she wouldn't be escaping his company for awhile yet.

**AN - Okay, thank you very much for the reviews of last chapter. I hoped you enjoyed this one with the caring Doctor. I promise we will learn more of his secrets. Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Congealed globs of cardboard floated in the milky swamp that was Amy Pond's cereal bowl. Her lips curled in disgust as she stared into the murky depths, trying to work out whether it was actually edible any longer. Glancing across the table from her unearthly slop, she was just in time to witness the Doctor insert a whole banana in a pot of jam and then shove the majority in his mouth. It made a loud squelch. Wow, that brought back memories. At least he wasn't mixing deserts with fish anymore – well, not that she knew of.

"You know, disgusting doesn't even begin to cover it," she stated, quietly.

The Doctor acted as if he hadn't heard her; instead he proceeded to polish off the rest of the banana and then moved on to another. She supposed, in truth, his sugar-loaded breakfast did look a whole lot better than her 'fibre-packed goodness' but then again, sugar too early in the morning did weird things to her head. Which _really _wouldn't be a good idea considering how fragile she was at the moment: wrapped in a big red, patterned blanket – which was tartan to compliment her 'Scottishness' according to the Doctor - and a thick jumper that didn't even belong to her. She didn't think she'd felt this drained for a very long time or emotional because Amy Pond didn't tend to get emotional; it wasn't her style. She felt like a ticking time bomb.

It looked like the Doctor thought the same because he kept giving her these not-so-sly glances whenever he thought she was looking the other way as if he was expecting her to explode in a ball of flames at any moment.

So far, they hadn't spoken much. There didn't seem to be much need. After all, she'd just spilled her heart to him and, as usual, he'd been there to comfort her, hug her – he was _so _good at the hugging thing – and then give her the space she needed to collect herself before the next big adventure. That seemed to be how it worked with the Doctor. Not that she'd complained when it involved the little things like having a bad dream but this was a _big _thing and she wanted a bit more from him than a few moments of comfort. She wasn't quite sure if he understood that. Then again, maybe he did comprehend her agony and hurt because he'd seen how hard it was for her to explain the event; to _finally _open up. This was the loss of her whole family they were talking about.

But, perhaps, her tragedy seemed a tad trivial to him because _he'd_ lost his entire race and was the only one of his species still alive…

As she contemplated the thought, Amy felt her believing the idea more and more. _That's_ why the Doctor acted as he did about other people's problems, because they were nothing in comparison to his heartbreak. That didn't feel fair and Amy found a knot of anger begin to grow in her chest at the notion of the Doctor viewing the loss that she'd experienced, lived with all her life, as _minor_.

"Does this seem insignificant to you?" she suddenly found herself snapping, slamming down her spoon. Whoa, there went the explosion. The Doctor looked comically startled, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline and his eyes widening like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights of a speeding train; the Flying Scots-woman to be exact.

He cocked his head. "Er…does what seem insignificant?" he asked, tentatively.

Amy glared at him. "The death of my family."

"Of course not!" The Doctor looked stunned by the red-head's fierce proclamation. "Why on earth would you say that?" His face was a muddle of emotions as they flashed across his features whilst he processed what had been said. Eventually, he just settled on befuddled.

"Because," Amy said, an accusing edge to her voice, "The death of my family is nothing in comparison to the death of your whole race. That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"

For a moment, the Doctor just stared at her, gaping like a stranded fish and then, a millisecond later, he gathered together his thoughts in order to form coherent sentences. Lifting a finger, he brandished it right at his companion and said with some ferocity: "Now, listen here, Pond, no one's death is more or less important than another's. You can't _compare _tragedies! That's like….that's like…." He flapped his hands around in the air for a moment, trying to think of an appropriate simile before he garbled, "That's like saying you love one of your children more than another."

Amy had been about to come out with a quick retort but she froze when she heard the words leave the Doctor's mouth. Her jaw dropped a little. Memories came flooding back….the teddy, the jumper carefully placed on the chair. Her throat constricted and she dropped her gaze down to her cereal.

Although the Doctor was unsure as to what had caused Amy's abrupt silence, he couldn't say he wasn't grateful for it, if a bit perplexed. He dropped his finger and placed it in his lap before looking curiously at his unnaturally quiet companion. "Do you understand that then, Amy?" he pressed, "That I don't think your loss is insignificant at all?"

"Yeah," Amy muttered, still staring at her milk with an unreadable expression on her pale face. Now the Doctor was truly confused. But he never liked to admit he was confused; never liked to have an unsolved puzzle, so he just filed the reaction away in his massive brain for future reference.

"So," he tried breaking the awkward silence, "You gonna eat the rest of that mush or shall I get you some real nosh to take your mind off, you know…._stuff_? How does cheese toasties on Cheddar-5-Moon sound?"

"You're not serious?" Amy exclaimed, looking up with an incredulous grin.

"Oh but I am, Pond."

"Cheddar-5?"

"Yes, one and two melted," the Doctor grinned, heading for the door, "Parked too close to the Sun."

"And three and four?"

"Eaten by a giant, fluffy space rat."

"_No_….seriously?"

"Of course not! They don't exist. It's the universe; not a fairy tale, Amy. But you believed me. Ha!" The Doctor laughed and vanished from sight.

* * *

Melted cheese oozed from the corner of the Doctor's toastie and made it half way down his wrist before he realised a) it was escaping and b) it was very, very hot. He let out a yelp of surprise and began dancing on the spot, flailing his tongue in the vague direction of his arm in an attempt to lick the offending substance off. Amy just watched, laughing hysterically at his antics, whilst taking a very small, neat bite out of her own cheesy snack.

"Burning, burning, _burning!_" the Doctor gabbled before looking imploringly at his friend, "A little help, Amy?"

"Hasn't it cooled yet?"

"The cheese isn't meant to cool, that's why it's a melted cheese toastie! Oh! Ah! They inject a chemical that constantly creates…heat and permanently breaks some of the intermolecular forces between the molecules…argh…so it's always….ahh….gooey. Ammmy!"

"Oh, all right, come here you big wuss." The girl grabbed the Doctor's arm and swiped the sticky cheese off with a napkin she had found. There was a small red mark where the substance had been but nothing major.

"How's it look?"

"You'll be fine," Amy said and then ruffled his hair, patronisingly, "You were a very brave boy."

"Oi, watch it, you." The Doctor batted her hand away and gave her a little shove before bidding the toastie vendor goodbye and heading off down the street. "Come on, Pond, we've got some exploring to do."

Still holding her own warm sandwich, Amy jogged after him in order to catch up and then fell into step beside him. It was fortunate that she was tall because the Doctor took really long, bouncing strides that practically flew him across the ground. She matched him pace for pace as they walked along the quayside of Cheddar-5-Moon, soaking up the glorious morning atmosphere. The sun's rays hit the water and ricocheted off, sending sparkles of light across the expansive harbour. It was a very quaint place that the Doctor had landed them in, almost like a fishing village back on Earth. He informed her that this was the town of Fromagibay. She would have sworn he was making the names up if it hadn't been for the sign posts.

They stopped at a small beach and kicked off their boots, dabbling their toes in the sand.

"This isn't made of cheese, is it?" she asked, curiously.

The Doctor glanced up at her from where he was busy rolling up his trousers and gave her an incredulous look. "Does it _feel _like it's made of cheese?"

"Well, no but…"

"Then its not," he said, bluntly, before exclaiming, "Right, last one in is a rotten egg." And then he shot off down the beach, laughing like a madman whilst shedding his brown tweed jacket and tossing it in his wake.

For a moment Amy just watched him, marvelling at how he could be so carefree considering _everything_; how he still had the ability to make light of one situation and yet be so wise and magnificent in another. She guessed that it took years of practice and a very, very deep soul where he could hide away the most terrible events that had occurred in his lengthy life. When she said hide, she didn't think that he forgot about them. No. She imagined him taking each memory out in turn, every few years or so, and dusting it off, giving it the proper treatment it deserved; the respect. The Doctor didn't forget anyone or anything.

That was just one of the things she loved about him.

"Pond!" The Doctor's voice reached her ears and she saw him jumping in the waves, waving wildly at her. "When I said rotten egg, I didn't mean fossilised! I'm growing wrinkles here!"

"I think you'll find they were already there," she laughed and charged across the sand, kicking it up in her wake. Fortunately, she was wearing one of her beloved skirts so she didn't need to worry about get her trousers wet and could just plough right into the water, allowing it to splash up her long, slender legs.

The Doctor made a face. "I'm offended, Pond."

"Aw…" Amy leant over and chucked him under the chin. "Its okay, you can barely see them."

"Hey!" the Doctor yelped. "Right, you're for it."

He made a dive for her but she skittered out of the way, spraying water all over the place. As he turned round to go for her again, he registered that her eyes were wide and frightened. She looked like a nervous colt. Her legs like wobbly stilts. It was only then that he realised what he'd done and only just refrained from his trademark self-slap on the forehead. How could he have been so stupid? It may be shallow but that didn't mean that it couldn't affect Amy – this was a deep, psychological fear that she harboured. Why was he so insensitive?

"Oh, Amy, I'm sorry….I didn't mean…." He sighed and waded over to her with his hands held up as a gesture of peace. His eyes were soft with guilt.

"Its okay. It's not your fault," she murmured, shaking her head, "_I_ shouldn't be so bloody disturbed."

With that, she turned – just before he could reach her; touch her – and scrambled out of the water. Practically flying up the beach, his companion completely ignored her boots and just stumbled up the steps with bare feet. The Doctor didn't even like to think of what nasty things were on the ground ready to slice open the soft, vulnerable sole of her foot. Feeling worry mounting in his stomach, he finally leapt into action, springing out of the waves and tumbling after his fast disappearing friend. He grabbed both their shoes, throwing his haphazardly on, and then continued his pursuit. However, by the time he reached the upper level, Amy was nowhere to be seen.

Cursing, the Doctor spun in a circle, his quick eyes scanning every inch of the nearby area: seaside shops with faded paintwork; boarded up houses; a small life guard station. If he was an upset, ashamed human then where would he go? Trailing his gaze over a disused jetty with an old shack at the end, he found his answer. Setting off at a jog, he hurried down the wooden structure, hearing the thud of his boots with each step. The jetty creaked ominously beneath him as he rounded the corner of the shack and…

Found her, sitting with her legs drawn up to her chest, staring out at the expanse of shimmering water where the sun was still reasonably low in the sky. It cast an amber glow on the almost glass-like surface of the sea. Without a word, he sat down next to her. They remained in silence just gazing into the distance – lost in their thoughts. Well, Amy was lost in her thoughts; an intense expression on her smooth, oval face; the Doctor was just waiting. He twiddled his thumbs, casually.

"Would you say it's ironic that my name's Pond and I'm frightened of water? Or just plain sad?" Amy said, suddenly, in a small voice, her elbows clasped tightly round her knees.

The Doctor shook his head and lifted his arm, draping it round her slender shoulders and pulling her into a hug. "You know its neither, Amelia. Besides, you're not frightened of water _itself_, you're frightened of drowning. That's different. I mean, you ran straight in the water a moment ago, didn't you? And if I hadn't been such a idiot then we wouldn't be having this problem. I'm truly am sorry, Amy."

Amy dropped her head onto his shoulder, enjoying the warm of his skin through his shirt - his tweed jacket lay with her boots on the wooden planks beside them. Unconsciously, she smelt him. He didn't smell _alien _like she'd expected. He smelt of...fresh laundry when it was right out of the basket and...mixed spices, like the stuff you got out of the pot for cooking and...oranges, ripe oranges that looked like they should burst at any moment.

"Pond, are you snorting my shoulder?"

"You smell good," she mumbled, feeling a little blush creep up her cheeks.

"Hmm...I have a sense of hygiene if that's what you mean."

Amy shook her head. "No, you smell like..."

"All the things that you like to smell?" the Doctor finished, succinctly.

Surprised, the girl shifted slightly, looking up at him whilst still managing to snuggle into the comfort of his neck. "How did you...?"

"Know?" The Doctor grinned, rubbing his ear - suddenly he looked a little embarrassed. "We...er...Time Lords, I mean, we smell like what a prospective partner wants us to smell like, pheromones and all that, to make us more enticing." Now _he'd _gone red. And Amy was loving it. She felt excitement build a inside her, her heart thumping like mad.

"Oh," she said, perhaps a _tiny _bit suggestively.

Suddenly, she was aware of the Doctor tensing and shifting away from her slightly. "Obviously, it means nothing. You're female and that's all it takes."

"Oh," she repeated but in an entirely different tone, "I see."

"Good. Well, now that's sorted we can make a move. Back to the TARDIS." The Doctor bounded to his feet like an excited puppy and clapped his hands together before hauling her to her feet.

"Yeah. Sure."

The Doctor looked at her with concern shining in his greenish eyes. "You're okay now, though?"

Although she was a little miffed, Amy found herself nodding because she really couldn't stay mad at him for very long. She didn't even have the right to because she _really _shouldn't be thinking about him in that way. Not when she had Rory. Rory was her _one _and she had proven that with her choice when the Dream Lord killed him. She would rather die than be without him. That was true, right? Since Rory had left them alone in the TARDIS again - he had decided that he needed to visit his mother for a couple of days - her feelings had once again become an complicated mess of promises, obligations, loyalty and lust. Right now, she had to say, especially in her vulnerable state, nothing was certain.

**AN - I didn't really have a plot when I started this, just a collection of ideas, but now I really do. Yay! **

**Oh, and thank you soooo much for the reviews. They were all lovely. I'm glad you're enjoying it. **

**Please review. Ooh, and wish me luck with my Biology AS level which is tomorrow! Eek!**


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you think?" Amy asked, stepping out from behind the column and posing in her bikini. It was aquamarine and decorated with white flowers; she found it when scouting around in the massive TARDIS wardrobe. There was a _whole _section just for swimwear – it was like having an entire department store at her disposal.

The Doctor looked up from where he was lying on his stomach, leaning over the edge of the pool, fiddling with the knobs that controlled the temperature of the water and scrutinised her attire in the way he would one of his gadgets or machines. Then he frowned. "Firstly, it's not very practical and secondly, you need feeding up."

Amy's jaw dropped so fast that she could have sworn she heard it click. Her hand flew to her stomach. "Er…_what_?" She couldn't have heard right, could she? Surely, the Doctor had some concept of manners? He couldn't just _say _that.

"You need some meat on those bones." No, he did say it. She glared at him as he jumped, fluidly, to his feet and strode over to her.

"Most men _like _this!" Amy gestured down at herself, her voice leaping an octave higher.

"Well," the Doctor replied, "You did ask _my _opinion and there you have it. Look," he sounded almost amused as he tapped the side of her chest, "You can see your ribs."

"Hey!" She batted him furiously away and glowered. "It's _attractive_."

"To you humans maybe," the Doctor shook his head, "You lot are truly ridiculous. You're the only race I have ever met who thinks starving yourself is a good thing. I personally think that good nutrition is an undervalued phenomenon."

Amy had never felt self-conscious before but now she found herself covering flat stomach with her crossed arms, feeling very foolish. How did the Doctor do that? She had always been very proud of her body: tall and slender, she could have gone into modelling. And yet here the Doctor was making her feel like an immature teenager or something. She ate enough; she didn't starve herself. She was just naturally this slim.

Trying to take her mind off the Doctor's insult to her figure, she wandered over to the edge of the pool and stared into the clear, blue depths.

"So remind me what we're doing here, again?"

"We're doing the British thing!" the Doctor declared, brandishing his arms and grinning.

"The British thing?"

"Of facing your fears," the Doctor clarified, throwing off his shirt and leaving himself in his Hawaiian swimming shorts again. "You know the drill. Scared of dogs? Well then, give him a dog! A big one! Or terrified of swimming? Throw 'im in the water!" Accompanying this last statement with a flourish, the Doctor continued to grin madly.

"You're not throwing _me_ in the water, Doctor!" Amy snapped, her eyes flashing.

The Doctor held up his hands, offering her his most innocent expression. "No, no, of course not. Wouldn't _dream _of it, Pond."

"Good."

"Well, then, if you would just like to step this way then we can get into the water." He gestured to the ladder that led into the pool and made a motion as if to say 'ladies first'. Amy sighed and did as she was told. She was really not looking forward to this.

Once they were both standing, waist deep, at the shallower end of the pool, the Doctor decided it would be a good time to stop, mostly because his companion was growing rather pale and her eyes had taken on that frightened animal quality. She was trembling and he knew it wasn't because of the temperature because he'd adjusted that himself. It was like being in a giant bath right now – just without the bubbles; not that his pool couldn't do bubbles, it could, very easily. The Doctor had to quickly snap himself from his wandering brain because he had a very scared, very vulnerable friend waiting for him to make everything better. And he would. There was no doubt about that. He wasn't called the Doctor for nothing.

Amy's small nose had creased and he guessed that was a nervous reaction rather than one of disgust – then again, you could never tell with Amy. Slowly, he waded towards her and stopped just short. Their bodies were inches apart. Too close, in Amy's book, but then again, the Doctor had never had any qualms about close physical contact and invading people's personal space – unless it involved kissing.

"Right, Amy, I'm going to ask you to close your eyes and trust me. Can you do that?"

She nodded silently and complied, closing her eyes delicately. The Doctor carefully reached out and gently touched her dry cheeks with his wet hands. He softly stroked her smooth skin, moving upwards until he reached her temples. There, he stopped and opened a psychic link, probing her mind.

"Okay, now…" He paused, steadying her. "I want you to take a deep breath and then I'm going to take us both underwater. Ok?" Amy shifted her head in a tiny nod. "Right, okay, you can do this, Amelia. I'm right here. Nothing is going to happen. When I say now, take a breath and then we'll go under." A tiny nod again. "And…now."

As gently and calmly as he could, he pulled Amy down beneath the surface, submerging himself at the same time. He kept his eyes wide open, watching her, whilst her eyes remained firmly shut. Her scarlet hair spread out in the water around her, a fiery mane like that of a lion. She looked unearthly in the dim atmosphere of the underwater world; like an angel or a naiad.

A scream inside his head interrupted his chain of thought and he abruptly turned his attention back to what was happening in Amy's mind.

_A screech of tyres._

_A scream of fear. _

_A sensation of falling. _

_And then water, everywhere, filling her mouth, her nose, blinding her. And pain and blood and broken glass flashing like shards of diamonds. _

_Fear. The need to get out. Terrified like she'd never been in her life. Kicking the door. Struggling out. The aching desperation to draw fresh air into her lungs. The surface looked so far away; so unreachable. She couldn't breathe! She'd never reach it in time. Please. Please. Please. It was suffocating her; pushing her down. _

"Amy," he whispered into her head, managing to ignore the vivid images and intense feelings that were getting to the point of overwhelming. "Amy, you're fine. I'm here. That was a long time ago and you're not in any danger anymore."

_The pain in her lungs grew in intensity. It hurt so much. _

"Amelia, please, listen to me," the Doctor persisted, stroking her temples, "You're in the swimming pool. Remember? It's not the lake. You aren't drowning. It's _completely_ safe."

_A flash of the Doctor's face. _

_An image of the TARDIS. _

_The warmth of a comforting hug. _

"Yes, Amy," he encouraged, excitedly, "That's it. I'm here and you're safe. You don't need to be afraid."

_His face again. _

_A memory of him adjusting his bowtie. 'Its cool', he stated in a very pompous voice. _

The Doctor let the psychic link slip a little as he laughed. "It _is _cool." It pleased him that Amy was distracting herself with these images of happier times; that she wasn't dwelling on the tragedy. She needed to…well, not _forget _but... move on. That was very important if she was to fully recover.

_An image of a boy. Blond hair. Massive brown eyes. Splashing in a pool, laughing. _

The psychic link snapped closed.

Amy's eyes flew open and a stream of shocked bubbles burst from her mouth as soon as she found herself underwater. She thrashed, wildly, fear mounting in her chest in a tight, constricting ball. Her airway was closing. A pair of strong hands grabbed her wrists, closing round the slender bones, and tugged her swiftly to the surface. Coughing and spluttering, she found herself above the water once more, her eyes streaming with hot tears.

Muscular arms wrapped around her and pulled her over to the edge of the pool before lifting her easily onto the tiles lining the side. She was panting heavily; hyperventilating. All she could hear was her heart thundering in her ears. Her head was incredibly hot; her brain felt like it was boiling in its own fluids.

"Amy. Amelia." Cold fingers pressed, forcefully, into the soft skin of her upper arms and then shook her. "Calm down. You need to _calm _down. You're having a panic attack. Take _deep _breaths. You're okay."

The words finally seemed to penetrate through her addled mind – somehow - and she managed to do what she was told: heaving much needed oxygen into her desperate lungs. She repeated the deep breaths several times and found her heart rate slowing to a normal rhythm. Vaguely, she felt dexterous fingers reach for her pulse and the Doctor seemed to find what she could sense because he breathed his own sigh of relief, dropping back onto his bottom beside her.

He put his hand round the back of her neck, stroking her damp skin comfortingly. "You're okay," he whispered, breathily, "You're okay."

They both sat in silence for awhile. Waiting.

"Was he…" Amy began, turning to look at the Doctor and interrupting the curtain of silence, "Was he your son?"

The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment, tightly, and then opened them slowly. "He was my grandson, Amy."

**AN - Well, thank you very much for the reviews of last chapter. **

**I'm not sure if I like this one. I don't think I included enough description. Your opinion would be greatly appreciated so could you please review? Thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you…er…want to talk about him?" Amy asked, tentatively.

The Doctor glanced at her for a second and then, abruptly, shook his head. "No, Amy, not really." Then he launched himself to his feet and began striding, very fast, away from her.

"Now hang on!" Amy yelped, struggling to her own feet and stumbling after him. "How come you get to know all about my past and I don't get to know any of yours? Doctor? Hey?" She kept calling but he kept walking. "Doctor! Answer me! You were the one who showed me the image."

"That was an accident," the Doctor replied, shortly. "A lapse on my part."

"But why are you keeping secrets, Doctor?"

They were hurrying down corridors of the TARDIS now; random ones that Amy had never seen in her life. She had no idea where they were and if she lost the Doctor now then she was surely stranded. A door with a purple archway flitted by on her right and then, at another point, the floor beneath her feet shifted seamlessly to intricate mosaic and back again. Several paintings also dotted the walls: a Picasso, a Monet and then some ones she didn't recognise – they could be alien for all she knew – such as one of a beautiful little white cottage sitting in the midst of a forest of plants that looked like giant daisies and a seascape with a magnificent tri-mast ship with shimmering golden hulls and rich burgundy sails. A sea creature with tentacles was in the water beside it but rather than attacking the vessel, it seemed to be playing. Then again, she couldn't really tell for sure as she only caught a glimpse and her mind was a bit preoccupied with a certain fleeing Time Lord.

The Doctor glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes dark with some unknown quality that she couldn't decipher. "Because they're _my_ secrets and it's _my_ business."

"You've been inside my head. You know all my secrets," Amy pointed out, glibly. She wasn't going to give this up. She needed to get it out of him. The truth.

"You asked for my help. I never asked for yours."

"Yes but….but…." She was struggling now, clutching at very slippery and probably very hazardous straws. "But what about the teddy and the book and the jumper in your room?"

The Doctor _literally _froze mid-step. His whole body seized up as if someone had zapped an electric current through him. Amy staggered to a halt behind him just as he spun round on the spot. There was something terrifying in his stormy eyes and, for the first time ever, Amy was truly scared of the Doctor. She found herself unconsciously stepped back from the waves of anger that were emanating from him.

"You went in my room?" His face had contorted into one of disbelief. "Without asking? You just _went _in?"

"You've been in my room," Amy said, quickly; defensively.

"It's _my _TARDIS. You're a guest. You don't go to a dinner party and then snoop around their house, do you?"

"I wasn't _snooping_!" Amy denied, indignantly.

The Doctor glared at her. "Then what _were _you doing?"

Amy opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again when she remembered exactly why she had been wandering around the TARDIS. A rose-red blush blossomed on her cheeks. "I was….I was looking for spot cream. A door appeared and I went in. It was an accident!"

His eyebrows rising into his hairline, the Doctor stared at her for a moment and then said, softly, "I can't do this right now. Not like this. I'll talk to you later." Then he turned and walked away, leaving a trail of pool water in his wake.

Because of the way he spoke, the defeat in his voice, Amy let him go, not wanting to anger or upset him anymore than she had. She hadn't meant for this to happen – whatever 'this' was. It was just her curiosity getting the better of her. She really did want to know about the Doctor's past, his children, his _grandchildren_…

Unsurprisingly, it was hard to believe he was a grandfather considering he looked so young. She wouldn't have put his age at anything more than twenty five and yet, as he'd informed her time and time again, he was nine hundred and seven years old. That was, obviously, plenty of time to have a family in but she just wouldn't have expected it. Not that he wouldn't make a fantastic father. In fact, she could imagine him being the best father you could possibly imagine: he had so much knowledge and wisdom and love to give. Considering how much he cared for the universe and its occupants merely because he was kind, she couldn't imagine how much he had cared for his children.

He could never let a child cry._ Anyone's_ child.

And yet the greatest tragedy had befallen the greatest man she knew: the loss of his _own_ kids. A child who'd lost their parents was an orphan; a wife who'd lost a husband was a widow; a husband who'd lost a wife was a widower. What did you call a parent who'd lost a child? Devastated? Shattered? Destroyed? Those words didn't even begin to cover it. Hollow…that's how she felt when….

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Amy quickly extricated herself from those dangerous, self-damaging thoughts and twisted on her heel. Suddenly, the cold was getting to her and she found she needed to get some more clothes on – hopefully, she would be able to find her way back to her room to do so. Then she would think about this mess that she'd gotten into.

* * *

Twin hearts thudded, dully, in his chest as he sat on the swing seat beneath the TARDIS' central column. After getting changed, he wasn't quite sure how he ended up here but - through a combination of his beloved machine's careful mapping of his route and his physical need to be close to her heart; to feel her warmth and security and familiarity - he had. And he was grateful to have his closest, most constant companion with him right now. She was humming tenderly, comforting him and soothing him. _Thank you, my dear_ he whispered inside his head. The humming increased slightly.

He shifted his legs slightly, pushing them against the solid floor, in order to give him some momentum to swing a little; not too much but just enough so he could enjoy the gentle lull as he stared off into space. The synapses in his enormous brain were working overtime as he considered what had happened between him and Amy.

Of course he felt bad _now_. He did rather blow up in her face. But at the time he had just been _so_ furious; so _betrayed_. No one was allowed in his room. It was an unwritten, unspoken rule but it existed and he thought his companions understood that. All the previous ones had but Amy, well, Amy was different.

It was probably something to do with the fact that she felt she had known him all her life – which, in a way, she had – and therefore felt authorized to pry into his most personal secrets. In fact, she probably did know this version of the Doctor better than he knew himself.

Amelia Pond: the little girl who waited.

Waited for fourteen years in total until her Raggedy Doctor returned, to prove to her and the world that she wasn't insane. He supposed, in that respect, he did owe her something. But that something wasn't his past because no one should have to shoulder that burden except him. She didn't understand; that was the thing. All she wanted was a revelation, to satiate her curiosity, but _his_ past _really _didn't work like that. It was way too complicated and heart-rending and downright terrible for a human to comprehend. _Probably blow her brains out._

And yet, vaguely, on some very simple, very basic level - that he could only put down to spending too much time with humans – he wanted to share his heartbreak. It was a natural urge: to seek comfort and solace in others. One that he, as a Time Lord, didn't usually succumb to but then again, perhaps, he was getting symptoms of old age. He didn't feel old physically - actually, he felt younger than ever - but his mind went through periods of weariness and loneliness that only came with aging. Recently, he'd never felt so alone.

Almost imperceptibly, the TARDIS' background hum increased in volume and, immediately, the Doctor's highly attuned ears picked up on it. She was warning him that Amy had entered the console room. Gathering his thoughts and emotions into a tight ball that he adeptly tucked away, the Doctor had time to throw on a big grin and jump to his feet before his companion had even began descending the ramp to the lower level.

"Pond!" His voice sounded a little over exuberant but hopefully she wouldn't notice. "How are you? I'm sorry about earlier. I was just a bit surprised, you know? I didn't mean to lose it."

Amy stared at him like he was bipolar or had grown two heads – or both. Her slender arms were hanging awkwardly down by her sides and he registered that she was wearing that blue, knitted jumper that he'd leant her again. He hadn't told her that it was his jumper and it made him smile slightly inside to see that she had voluntarily chosen to wear it once more. It was a bit big but somehow it suited her. Then again, most things suited her. However, as he observed from her uncomfortable body language, she didn't look like she wanted to be near him and that upset him. He _really _hadn't meant to scare her.

When she didn't speak, he continued, "Sorry that our swimming thing was interrupted. I thought it was going rather well before that, don't you?" He was speaking a tad fast but it was fine; things would be back to normal soon enough. His eyes sought hers. "Are you going to speak or have your vocal chords been invaded by Throat Goblins from Norb Plaxia? I can fix it with pepper. They _hate _pepper…" His sentence fizzled out when he saw the expression on Amy's face. He frowned.

Tucking a russet strand of hair behind the shell of her ear, Amy said, quietly, nervousness seeping into her voice, "You can't act like this never happened, Doctor. You looked like you wanted to hit me. I've never seen you that angry, not even about the Starwhale."

The Doctor looked appalled. "I would _never_ hit you, Amy."

"Well, I wasn't so sure," she replied, softly. Her face was pale and her voice didn't hold the strength and sharpness that it usually did.

Now the Doctor felt terrible; he felt like a monster. "Amy. _Truly_. _Honestly_. I could never ever hurt you. You're far too important to me. Look, I just lost it." He inhaled deeply. "And I'm sorry, so sorry for that. Please, forgive me?"

He took a few steps towards her, unsure of how she would react. She just watched him with big green eyes. How _could _he have hurt her? Emotionally if not physically. It sickened him to have acted in such a way. When she didn't move or react, he covered the last few paces between them and then enveloped her in a bear hug. It pleased him immensely when he felt her tuck her chin over his shoulder and meld into his embrace. Her warmth and solidness was certainly the grounding he needed; reminding him that, actually, he wasn't _quite_ alone.

"I forgive you," Amy whispered in his ear. He smiled widely, hugging her tighter. "But I do have ribs!" she wheezed.

"Oh, sorry," he apologised and loosened his grip.

They remained in comfortable silence for awhile.

"Doctor," Amy whispered again, in that serious voice that made him tense up, "They're dead, aren't they?"

Although he had been about to say 'who' and play it dumb, the Doctor suddenly changed his mind at the last moment and he wasn't quite sure why. "Yes." The whoosh of breath that came with the important admittance tickled Amy's neck but she ignored it. He was finally opening up.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. Losing a child is just…"

"Amy," he interrupted, gently, "You wouldn't understand so please _don't_." He released her and the two stepped apart, eyes locked.

"Why do you assume that I couldn't understand the pain of losing a child?" Amy said, sharply, "Because I can. You may have forgotten but I was pregnant once."

A small frown of confusion creased the Doctor's brow. "That was a dream."

"But it _felt _like reality. That baby felt bloody real to me, Doctor," Amy stated, emphatically. She crossed her arms over her chest.

For a few seconds the Doctor just stared at her, trying to consider what she was saying. He supposed it was true that everything had felt extremely real in those dream worlds but she made a choice at the end of it that still suggested she didn't really understand the loss of a child.

"But you gave it up," he said, slowly, "You chose to die so you could be with Rory. You…" he paused, awkwardly, not knowing how to continue.

"Essentially _killed _my own baby?" Amy finished, her green eyes steely, "For the love of a man."

"Not the way I would have put it but yeah."

"I _knew _that wasn't the real world."

The Doctor couldn't stop himself, he snorted. "You couldn't have known that. Even I didn't know which was real – well, _more_ real because neither of them actually was."

Amy glared, fiercely, at him. "I knew that it wasn't because I wouldn't have chosen to give up this life. I kept thinking about it the whole time and I just _knew _that I wouldn't have. I couldn't have given up you, the TARDIS, space and time to live in a village with Rory. I didn't know how to explain it to you two. How could I tell Rory that I could never imagine living a cosy, domestic life with him? And that's why I was so willing to 'kill myself' when he died."

The Doctor stared at her. "So….you _didn't _choose Rory?"

"No, I chose for us _all _to live," Amy frowned, "Does that make a difference?"

"Er…no," the Doctor shook his head, quickly; "I don't think so."

"I love Rory but…." She shrugged, uneasily, unable to finish. The Doctor watched her, silently, for a couple of seconds, registering how confused and unsettled she looked. He went to hug her again but was stopped when she turned to look at him.

"But this isn't about Rory," she declared, "This is about the baby I _sacrificed_ for all of us. I did love it and I _do _think about what it would have been like to have that child. I was in labour – or don't you remember?"

"Oh, I remember," the Doctor replied, looking a little shell-shocked at the memory.

"But I was willing to give it up. And, as I said, it may have been an imaginary baby but it felt real enough to me – I felt it _kicking_, Doctor – so yeah, maybe I do have some idea of what it's like to lose a child. So stop thinking you're the only one with grief and tell me about them. About the little blond boy with the brown eyes."

"You _really _want to know?"

"I wouldn't be asking otherwise, would I?" Amy said, calmly. "Please, Doctor, tell me about your family."

Running a hand through his fly-away hair, the Doctor scrutinised his companion and then murmured, "That little boy was the son of my daughter. I had three children, well, four if you count…" He paused, rubbing his temples. "Jenny. And five grandchildren….Amy, please!" The Doctor looked, imploringly at her. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

"You need to share, Doctor, you've kept it inside you for far too long," the human girl urged.

She grabbed his hand and led him over to the swing that he'd so recently vacated before manoeuvring him into it. Once she had done this, Amy took a seat on one of the struts that made up the console and looked at her friend with encouraging eyes.

"_Tell _me about them, Doctor."

**AN - Okay, there we go. Aha, I managed to go a whole chapter without actually resolving the cliffhanger I left you with last chapter. Sorry about that. **

**Thank you very, very much for the lovely reviews. Some more would be much appreciated, especially with advice about naming the Doctor's children and grandchildren because I know he had Susan, John and Gillian(those two being from the cartoon strips) but how do I name Gallifreyans and make them sound authentic?**


	7. Chapter 7

Silence reigned in the TARDIS control room except for the very quiet, melodic humming of the machine herself. Her two occupants were bathed in the cool, blue light emanating from her heart, silhouetted against the shadowy walls almost like two ancient cave dwellers gathered round a comforting fire. She could sense the tension and, perhaps, even unease on her master's part. The human girl….there was a certain excitement, anticipation about what was to come. The TARDIS wondered how she would react when she was told the truth. Well, she was about to find out.

Wordlessly, the Doctor dropped down from the swing-seat and landed on the floor in front of Amy. She watched him, carefully; waiting. He gestured for her to slip off the strut and onto the ground with him. Then, with his legs crossed like a child on a classroom carpet, the Doctor leant forward and touched her temples with his long fingers. This time he was opening the door in the opposite direction – letting _her _in – something he rarely did. It was easier this way. To show her rather than tell her.

She let out a small gasp of surprise as vivid images flooded her head. The Doctor felt his hearts constrict as the faces and memories and all that was lost in the Time War returned to him. It was almost too much. Quickly, he siphoned off any particularly nasty memories in his head and just focussed on the happier ones, the ones that Amy could cope with seeing.

_A bedroom came into view. It was decorated in spring colours. Very simple and yet perfect. A massive glass window took up the majority of one wall, giving light to the space and the most incredible outlook onto russet mountains and the most beautiful architecture of an enormous city. Turrets and towers and domes littered the skyline with their stunning shapes and somehow made the entire settlement look both modern and ancient. _

"Where are we?" Amy whispered in awe.

"The Citadel of Gallifrey," the Doctor replied, softly, "Where I used to live."

_Whimpering started up. A baby. It was tucked carefully in the arms of a pretty young woman. Bright, intelligent brown eyes stared up into the gentleness of her face; listening to her soothing words. _

"Doctor? What is she speaking?"

"Gallifreyan."

"Why can't I understand her? I thought you said…"

"The TARDIS doesn't translate my native tongue."

Amy was still curious. "What's she saying then?"

"Hush, little one," the Doctor paused, "Please don't cry."

"Is she your…?"

"Wife. Yes. The baby is my daughter, Andromedê."

_A man walked in. He was tall and looked solemn until he caught sight of the mother and child. Then his face broke into a devoted smile as he came and sat with them, stroking the infant's downy head. A perfect little family. The image faded away…_

"They were beautiful. But who was that man? Was he you?"

The Doctor didn't reply. Another memory invades her head.

_The same woman again. She looked upset. Two small children clutched at her legs beneath a flowing skirt. A boy and a girl. Dark haired and brown eyed. They were looking at a man; a man who was walking, stiffly, away with a heavy travelling bag thrown over one shoulder. Suddenly, the little boy broke away from his mother and stumbled down the path on his short legs, tripping over stones and sticks. _

"_Pati!" _

_The man with the bag turned at the word and his face seemed to melt as he dropped his things and crouched down. The child threw himself, wildly, into his arms. The two embraced, tightly, as the image faded out…_

"What's happening?"

"I had to go away for awhile. There was a problem. I had to leave them behind." The Doctor's reply was very unrevealing but Amy didn't push it. He was already giving her so much.

"The boy is your son?"

"Rigel."

"Like the star?"

"Yes but it's a shortened version of the original. My race had…complicated names to say the least. Cass – short for Cassiopeia - was alive at that point too, just a baby. I think she was in the nursery."

"Why do you look different?"

"You asked about my family, not me. Now, be quiet and watch."

_A golden telescope glimmered in the dying light of the setting sun. Around it were gathered three children and the man – the Doctor. Each child was struggling to see in the eyepiece, their little hands squabbling to get hold of the metal column. Their father reached down and gently extricated the smallest one and lifted her up to see. Her siblings looked outraged initially but they soon calmed down as the Doctor picked each of them up in turn. All of them returned to the earth with wondrous expressions on their keen little faces. Cass looked different to the other two. Her hair was ash-blonde and curly but her eyes were an identical intense brown to her siblings and the boy in the pool. His image appeared once more._

The Doctor registered the link that Amy was making and nodded his head. "Cass was the mother of the little boy you saw, my grandson. He looked so much like her." There was so much loss and pain in the Doctor's voice that Amy wanted to cry. She may be seeing all these images of the Time Lord's past, of his wonderful family, but she couldn't forget they were all dead now. It was like watching a film when you already knew the ending.

"What was he called?"

"Cass was never one for tradition. None of my children were, in fact. They were rather rebellious." A small smile crossed the Doctor's lips. "I wonder where they got that from." Amy smiled with him. "He was called Caspar - after the Casparian Strip, she _claimed_ – but really she just liked the name."

"Cass and Casper," Amy said, rolling the similar names on her tongue, "Did she have any other children?"

"No, just Caspar. She would have, I expect, if…." The Doctor stopped; his eyes glassy.

Amy probed. "If…?"

"If she hadn't died," he finished, quietly.

Amy wasn't even sure why she asked the question now. It was really, very stupid in retrospect. I mean, what else was she expecting? All these young people had had their lives cut short by some great catastrophe and all she could do was ask stupid, insensitive questions.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…."

"Amy, its fine. It's been several decades. I should have come to terms with it by now." The human girl didn't know how to reply.

Suddenly, the Doctor withdrew his fingers and she let out a gasp as his mind left hers. It felt strange, like the sensation you get when you lose a tooth as a child. You aren't really _aware _of your teeth until you lose one. Then the hole feels like a cavern. All his memories, thoughts, images were gone and she was just left with her own and, frankly, they didn't quite measure up.

"That's it, Amelia," he said, as she opened her eyes, "I can't do anymore. I'm sorry."

"But…"

"That, honestly, is it. I don't want to talk about it any longer," he stated, forcefully but then the fierceness seemed to fizzle out and he just said, imploringly, "Please, don't make me."

"I won't, Doctor," Amy conceded, seeing how vulnerable he looked.

They both stared at each other for a time and then the Doctor turned on his heel, climbing the steps up to the main deck. He needed to be alone again. And now, Amy understood that. Understood what he'd lost just in terms of family, let alone in his entire planet.

* * *

Amelia Pond felt drained. She had flopped on her comfortable bed, with it pure-white covers, and found a cascade of tears pouring down her cheeks. Everything she had thought this morning felt so trivial in comparison to what she'd learnt today. She couldn't believe that she'd been worried about her appearance and _spots _when there were so many more important things she should be worrying about: the Doctor to name just one.

Before, when he had mentioned children, even when she _assumed _he had been a parent once, and found those children's objects in his bedroom, she still couldn't have quite imagined his loss. Until now. And she knew that that loss must be breaking him up inside – perhaps not immediately, perhaps not visibly – but it was gnawing gradually away at his hearts until he was numb from the inside out. She couldn't allow that to happen. But what could she do?

Well, she knew one thing for sure; she certainly wasn't leaving him, no matter what he turned up and said to her after this encounter. If he _asked _her to go then she still wouldn't. He was too much of a danger to himself. One of these days he was going to get himself killed with his recklessness and disregard for his own life. When he had talked to her about survivor's guilt, she realised he had been taking it from his own personal experience but, in truth, he hadn't quite accomplished it himself yet. Somewhere, buried deep inside, he was still waiting for an opportunity to rejoin his family. And Amy didn't like that idea one bit.

The Time Lord loved the universe. He saved the universe – probably a million times by now. And yet he never got any thanks; never any recognition. It wasn't surprising that the years were taking their toll and the relentless lack of appreciation wasn't as appealing or endurable as it once was. Everyone had to have a breaking point. She guessed she'd witnessed that in some of his more recent anger; his mood swings. Like that time he'd practically battered that…Dalek. She wondered, considering the intensity of his reaction, whether those rolling pepper pots had something to do with the tragedies in his past. Even though she wanted to know, Amy wasn't going to ask. Question time was over – for now.

She didn't need to interrogate him any long; she just needed to be _there _for him.

**AN - Okay, so I know this was a wishywashy chapter but I'm procrastinating because I don't know enough details about the Doctor's hand in the destruction of Gallifrey. Does anyone have a short synopsis of what really happened? He destroyed the Time Lords to destroy the Daleks but how? And how did only he survive?**

**Please review. Thanks for the feedback on names last chapter. **


	8. Chapter 8

Once again, the interior of the TARDIS was quiet. It could have been day or night. The time machine was casually drifting through the vortex like a leaf caught in a lazy wind, waiting to fall to earth. Her engines hummed, merrily; her strong heart pulsed and the column in the centre of the control room rose and fell, rhythmically, as if she was breathing, drawing life and energy into her core.

The tinkling of glasses could be heard somewhere in the deep recesses of her hull as someone poured themselves a banana milkshake and even further than that was the sound of someone turning on a shower and stepping inside. Right now, the spaceship was a very peaceful place to be but it remained to be seen how long that would last.

Whistling to himself as he replaced the carton of milk in the fridge and dropped into a chair by the large pine table, the Doctor vaguely surveyed the room he was currently in: the kitchen. It was coloured with a palette of warm paints: yellows and oranges that made the place feel eternally sunny. The cabinets were a soft wood, whose exact origins he couldn't remember, and the floor was laid with wonderful terracotta tiles.

Although it wasn't in keeping with the rest of the ship, he had taken the design from a rustic kitchen he'd discovered in the rolling green valleys of quiet little planet which had aptly been named Quaint. There hadn't been much happening on Quaint so he'd decided to do a bit of redecorating. Therefore it now looked like he'd abducted a sweet, picturesque farm kitchen and placed it on his TARDIS. He'd even installed an AGA – a green one – and a beautiful investment it was too. He never got tired of cooking stews or roasting whatever meat he could get his hands on.

Downing the last dregs of his glass and giving himself a sugary bananary moustache, the Doctor grew bored of his inactivity and launched himself to his feet. He threw his arms behind him in an overzealous stretch and then marched from his cosy kitchen and into the shiny, modern-looking corridor. Of course, the clashing styles didn't phase him in the slightest and nor did the random place in which the TARDIS seemed to have spat him out. He was too used to it by now.

Balancing on his heel and pointing left then right with his long-fingered hands, the Doctor nodded his head. He had made his decision. Right it was. Right was always right. Left was a bit dodgy these days. Well, not always because there had been that time…

As the Doctor immersed himself in past thoughts, he didn't register where the TARDIS was leading him through the maze of winding, wending passages and twisting, turning corridors until he ended up in front of a very familiar door. He halted as he recognised the grain of the wood and the lack of a door handle. It was his door. The door to his room. The room that he hadn't set foot in for…ooh….going on four months. _It would be gathering dust by now_, he thought, offhandedly.

Staring at the said door and rubbing a palm down the side of his face and across his strong jaw, the Time Lord paused, unsure as to whether he really wanted to go in. Could he face those demons? The demons that plagued his possessions, lingering like unwanted smells. There were so many memories in that room: entangled in all the objects, etched into the walls, stitched into the very fabric of the place. This was the only room on the entire ship that had never changed – not once. Whereas the others morphed and melded and muddled, his bedroom always sat untouched and waiting for him to return.

Amy had said he needed to face his past just as much as she needed to face hers. How could he tell her to do one thing and then not do it himself? If there was one thing the Doctor hated being it was a hypocrite. Unfortunately, he seemed to becoming more and more of one lately.

Inhaling deeply, his chest filling with nervous air, the Doctor gently pushed on the wood of the door and stepped into his room…

It looked exactly as he had left it. Everything was still strewn in exactly the same place. He had been worried that Amy may have moved things whilst she was in here but he could barely tell she'd been inside. His old suit jacket still hung on the wonky coat stand, accompanied by a magenta umbrella and an amusing hat that he'd worn in his former days. Already he could smell the memories. They seeped from the objects around him.

He closed his eyes.

And opened them once more to register the gadget he had been working on sitting on the side; unfinished. There was a cascade of socks falling out of the drawer of a rickety, purple cupboard and a mirage of photographs strewn across a table. Familiar faces grinned at him and he felt his heart clench, uncomfortably. Old wounds still stung.

His dressing table was still littered with bits of detritus that he hadn't used in ages. He'd been surviving on bed hair alone to give his locks some volume. Well, that coupled with a few strokes from a vicious comb he'd found in the library - he had no idea how it had got there. There was a time when he wouldn't have left his bedroom without throwing a bit of gel in or styling his unruly mop in front of that smeared mirror.

Slowly, he clambered over a broken chair he had meant to fix and absentmindedly ran his fingers along the end of his unused bed, feeling the smooth texture of the wood beneath his sensitive pads. Somewhere, deep inside him, he felt a fleeting pang for sleep but that was soon quashed by the sight of something that made his blood run cold.

The teddy.

And the book.

And the jumper.

Just as Amy had said. She had seen this: this sad, little shrine to his lost family. All he had to show for them because they had been wiped from existence. From everywhere. Except in his mind. He was the only thing keeping their memories alive and that killed him.

Silently and with a leaden heart, the Doctor dropped down onto his knees beside his small collection of belongings. It had been a trial to come back into this room but, in a way, he was glad he did. He had needed to. But now he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Running a hand through his soft locks and then reaching out, with quivering fingers, to touch the striped jumper, the Doctor swallowed and felt his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

However, just as his fingertips brushed the textured material a scream reached his ears.

"DOCTOR!"

Accompanying the lilting Scottish yell was a rather dangerous lurch of the room that sent the Doctor sprawling across the floor. Almost immediately, he was scrambling to his feet and dashing – limbs flailing in all directions – towards the door. He barrelled into the corridor and found himself being thrown against the opposite wall with another unnerving tip of the TARDIS.

"Whoa!" he gasped, a little surprised, and then flung himself down the shaking corridor, trying desperately to stay upright. It was like being on a sailing boat in a tempest.

"DOCTOR!"

The fear in Amy's voice was unquestionable and had the Time Lord running even faster in order to get to her. "I'm coming, Amy!" he bellowed.

_Crack. _

"Ow." The Doctor's hand went to his forehead having just collided rather spectacularly with a loose door. "No blood," he assured himself, "I'm fine."

Then he tumbled on, bursting into the control room and planting his hands on the handle rails before launching himself down the flight of metal steps with gusto. In the process he was almost thrown over the edge by another vicious lurch but fortunately he avoided an inelegant face plant with a deft two legged hop over the bottom rail. Landing with a clatter of boots on the floor, he looked around, taking in the situation and processing it in his massive brain within milliseconds.

"About time!" Amy yelped from where she was struggling to hold onto the central control panel, gripping a handily placed knob. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry…" the Doctor said, dragging a hand through his hair, "A bit…" He jumped at the panel of buttons and began to work. "_Busy_. Ah! Yes." He thumped a blue button. The TARDIS whined, awfully. "NO!" He danced to another section, twisting a dial and tweaking a switch. "There…that should….oh no, no, no….what's going-whoa!"

The ship shook once more, knocking them both off their feet. They landed heavily but moments later the Doctor was on his feet, his eyes wide and his hair wild. He slapped his forehead several times and then bounced on the balls of his feet.

"What's up, girl? What's going on? Come on, come on." He tried once more to fiddle with the controls; his eyes glanced over all the screens and devices as he spoke to both himself and the machine.

"Anything I can do to help?" Amy asked from somewhere behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder, the Doctor managed to offer her a grin. "No, no, everything's fi-iiiiine!"

With one final, bone-rattling shake the TARDIS came to a stop.

"Well!" the Doctor exclaimed, looking around with curious eyes, "What was _that _all about?"

"I was hoping you could tell _me_," Amy quipped, also looking around the control room, wondering whether it was about to start imitating a washing machine again. "I feel thoroughly…."

"Rejuvenated?" the Doctor finished, brightly.

Amy arched an eyebrow. "Well, I was going more for nauseated but your word could work."

The Doctor laughed and clapped one hand on her shoulder. "It seems as if we've landed. Fancy taking a gander at where we've ended up?"

"Do I really want to? Why did all that shaking happen anyway?"

"I have no idea but it must be for a reason. Let's go check it out."

"Aren't you gonna check on the monitor?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, much more fun this way, don't you think?"

"Hmm…we'll see."

Practically bouncing towards the TARDIS door, the Time Lord caught hold of the handle and pulled it open with a flourish.

"Ta da!"

Amy peered round his shoulder. "Well, that's new."

**AN - Okay, so who else was completely stunned by Rory's death? Totally unexpected. Very sad too. Now the Doctor has even _more _guilt! And Amy doesn't even remember. That's really sad. And I was just starting to like Rory as well. I think he'll be coming back because he wasn't completely wiped from existence as the ring was still there - that will bring him back. Really looking forward to tomorrows episode though. Written by Richard Curtis! Its going to be brilliant. **

**Thank you very much for the reviews. I'm working up to the big reveal of the Doctor's part in the Time War, by the way. That's why this chapters kind of filler-y. **

**Please review. **


	9. Chapter 9

It was an indoor play area; full of very lurid primary colours and screaming children who dashed about with wild abandon. There were kids swinging on monkey bars and twirling on ropes and whizzing down – frankly rather scary looking – drop slides. A familiar sound, that Amy associated with childhood birthday parties, was the strange noise that all the balls made when you threw yourself in a ball pit: a kind of crunchy-_whumph. _

Along the walls were paintings of animals in amongst the cartoon trees: lions and tigers and giraffes and monkeys. They had unnervingly googly eyes and human-like smiles that Amy had always found vaguely disturbing. Then again, she'd never liked people dressed up in animal costumes when she was little. She used to scream and cry whenever they had to go near one – Disneyland had been _hell_. Therefore, she guessed it was kind of ironic what she was doing with her life now and all the _very real _scary creatures that were in it.

In front of her, the Doctor was rubbing the back of his head, sending his hair into disarray, and looking very, very perplexed. She noticed a shadow on his face and caught his chin in her fingers so she could look closer. "What did you do to your head?" There was a large bump of a bruise on the right side of his forehead.

"Ran into a door when you were screaming at me," the Doctor replied, smoothly, brushing her probing fingers away.

"Idiot," she laughed.

The Doctor made a face at her and then wheeled back round when he felt something tugging at the bottom of his tweed jacket. He looked down and came face to face with a pint-sized human – about five years old judging by the elasticity of her skin and condition of her teeth – who was staring at him with earnest brown eyes.

"Hallo there," he said, brightly. "Are you all right?"

She considered him for a moment and then said, "Mister, your box is in the way."

"My box? _Oh, _my box!" He patted the side of the TARDIS. "What's she in the way of?"

"The swirly slide," she replied, pointedly.

"Oh right, yes, sorry about that. Let me just move her a bit. Don't want to stop you getting on the swirly slide. Sounds like great fun. Can I just ask…it's rather busy for," he checked his watch, "Eleven o'clock, don't you think? Surely past your bed time? Why are you all still up?"

"The grown ups brought us here. They don't want us to go to bed."

"Right. Thanks. There we go: one box moved."

"Thank you, Mister."

"It's the Doctor," the Doctor corrected her.

"You're not _my _doctor. He has lollies," the child answered, simply, before skipping past him and clambering up the stairs.

"Do you think I should invest in _lollies_?"

Ignoring his question, Amy turned round and realised that he had indeed moved the TARDIS several feet to the left. She stared at him with questioning eyes. She hadn't believed it possible that you could just _move _the spaceship like a wardrobe.

"How did you-"

"Well, if it's not bigger on the outside then why should it be heavier?" The Doctor offered her a grin. He swiftly locked the door and looked around. "We need to find out why these children are here."

After surveying the play area for obvious clues, the Doctor watched a young boy sitting at one of the tables in the café section of the play area: his eyes were drooping and his head was lolling. He looked exhausted but his mother caught his shoulders and shook him. "Robbie, no, you can't go to sleep. Keep your eyes open and go and play. Go on."

"I don't want to. I'm tired," he whined, sticking out his bottom lip.

"I know, darling, but do as Mummy says."

Amy was also observing the dispute and found herself thoroughly confused. Surely if the child was tired then he _should _be allowed to sleep? He looked like he'd been awake for ages anyway; there were big dark circles under his eyes. She was about to ask the Doctor something but, when she looked around, she realised – as usual – her companion was already one step ahead of her. He was now standing right beside the woman's table. Huffing, Amy hurried to join him.

"Um…excuse me, I was wondering if you could tell me the date?" the Doctor asked, politely.

"Oh, er….of course, 18th February."

"Year?"

He received the usual frown for this. "2310."

"Three hundred years and it hasn't changed much," Amy muttered in his ear, "We still have _ball pits_." He waved her away but couldn't help a small smile that twitched his lips.

"Planet?"

"Earth of course." The woman was eyeing him very suspiciously. She glanced in the space around him. "Which one did you say was yours again?"

The Doctor registered the look of distrust on her face and knew it didn't bode well for him. So he offered her a giant, disarming grin and neatly grabbed one of the children that was running past.

"This one," he said, looking down and observing a mop of messy red hair, "Is mine."

"_Ours_," Amy butted in, linking an arm through his. He glanced at her with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, _ours_," the Doctor amended, ruffling the boy's hair, "His name's…er...tell her your name…"

The child looked up at him with bemused blue eyes. "Felix."

"Like the cat?" the Doctor murmured, questioningly, before stating, abruptly, "Like the _cat_! Yes, big cat fanatic, me. Anyway, run along then." He gently pushed the child in the back and Felix gratefully escaped.

"So…er….I was wondering…why everyone's here so late? Is there some kind of party?"

The woman stared at him like he'd grown two heads. "No, we brought them here so they wouldn't go to sleep."

"And what happens when they _go to sleep_?"

"They vanish, of course."

"Of course!" the Doctor agreed, clicking his fingers. Then a frown knotted his brow. "Hang on, they _vanish_?"

"Yes, haven't you seen it on the news? It's happening all over the world. Kids go to sleep and then they just disappear. No one knows where they go."

"And so you brought them here because?"

"Then we could all keep an eye on them and keep them from going to sleep. The play area keeps them entertained."

The Doctor rubbed his chin. "But you know they'll have to fall asleep eventually? Children can't stay awake forever."

"We're hoping they will solve the problem before that happens," the woman replied, calmly. Suspicion still lurked in her eyes as she considered his lack of awareness of the situation. "What's your name?"

"The Doctor."

Immediately, the woman's expression changed and a smile even graced her thin lips. "Doctor who?"

"Just…." The Doctor scratched the back of his head, wondering how this would go down. He was in a delicate situation. Here was a room full of worried parents and he was doing rather a good job of looking like a creep. "Er…Doctor…"

"Pond," Amy supplied, quickly.

The Doctor turned to stare at her again, mouthing 'you're marrying us now?' to which he was given a shrug of the shoulders and a mischievous grin. Unfortunately, before he could say anything more, someone let out an ear-splitting screech and he had to turn his attentions elsewhere.

Instantly running in the direction of the sound, the Doctor hurdled several chairs and skidded to a halt in a small alley between the climbing frames. There was a young woman desperately scrabbling at the ground. He could see the vague outline of what must have once been a child; particles still hanging in the air.

"Noooooo!" the woman wailed, "My baby! Anna! Anna!"

Her hoarse cry was truly heart-breaking as tears flooding down her cheeks. Quickly, the Doctor ducked around her and whipped out his sonic screwdriver, testing the air where the child had vanished. The buzzing seemed to interrupt the mother's distraught crying as he felt a fierce hand suddenly grab his wrist with painful strength. He let out a hiss of surprise and pain.

"_What _are you doing?" a broken voice asked.

"I'm helping," the Time Lord replied, softly, "I'm so sorry for your loss but I really am trying to help."

Eventually, the woman released his arm and dropped back onto her heels, staring into space with glassy blue eyes. Occasionally she would whisper the name of her lost daughter.

"Doctor, what's going on?" Amy had appeared at his side as had several other parents who were now comforting the stricken woman. "Did the child actually disappear?"

"It would seem so."

"Is she….dead?" she whispered the last part as quietly as possible, sparing a glance over her shoulder at the mother.

The Doctor flicked several buttons on his screwdriver, tapped it against his thigh and bit the end, hard. "I don't know. My sonic is acting up. It could be one of two options: she could have just been teleported somewhere or her atoms may have simultaneously separated and therefore, yes, she is dead."

"Lets focus on the first option then, shall we?" Amy hissed, still wary of all those that could be listening.

The Doctor nodded, silently, having stopped fiddling for a moment. Amy registered the faraway look in his eyes with worry. This was probably not the best time for him to have found himself in an awful situation with vanishing children and distraught parents. She still didn't know what had caused his children – his race, in fact – to perish but this could hardly be helping matters.

Gently, she placed a comforting hand on his arm. He glanced at her, his eyes unnervingly intense, before he leapt to his feet.

"Right, we need to find out what's doing this and stop it," he murmured, his jaw set and his expression determined. "I think we need to spend some time with the children. See if they have any clue on them because if it is a teleport then they'll be covered in seeking beacons and if its not, well….it'll be something else..."

"Okay, won't the parents be a bit, you know, suspicious of a grown man 'playing' with their kiddies?"

"I'll just tell them I'm researching. Flash them the psychic paper. Come on, let's go find _Felix_!"

"Ah, our ginger love-child?"

"That'd be the one!"

**Thanks for the reviews. Sorry for not writing spoiler at the end of last chapter too when I mentioned Rory! Forgot some of you guys are in America. **

**I know this quick but I decided I needed to do this before my exams. :O **


	10. Chapter 10

High up on the wall, the hands of a large silver clock reached twelve at the same moment and signalled the arrival of midnight. However, if one was to survey the scene in the colourful jungle play area that sprawled out below, they would not have been alone in thinking that it was mid_day_ because, rather than being dimly lit and quiet, the massive place was alive with the sound of giggling children and the thundering of dozens of small feet. The bright, artificial lights shone on full blast and a lively pop tune gurgled out of box-like speakers. Hundreds of fizzy drink cans were scattered across the tables and floor, together with numerous empty bags of sweets and any other sugar-coated, sugar-filled, sugar-drenched items of food. A half-eaten donut sat in the middle of a lonely table, surrounded by the avalanche of sugar it had produced and sent cascading across the tacky surface. Globs of ruby-red jam dripped from its exposed insides.

Dotted among the tables and the general detritus were a few exhausted, pale-faced parents who were busy keeping a close eye on the children that were playing with such wild abandon on the apparatus. Occasionally, when a child looked like they were lagging, one of the adults would jump to their feet and hurry over, offering sweets and chocolate and presents if the child would just _stay awake_. Unfortunately, these instances were becoming more and more frequent and the parents grew increasingly anxious because, honestly, there was nothing they could do to stop the inevitable. And that was any parent's worst nightmare. A couple of overly protective mothers were clutching their children close to them - squeezing them so tightly that they didn't have a chance to go to sleep – and fighting back hot tears of distress.

Their only hope lay in one man. A genius of a man, who had saved many planets and civilisations and people in the past; who'd beaten aliens and monsters and ghosts; who fought until the very end even when no one else was willing and everything looked hopeless; and who could never let a child cry because it made both his ancient hearts break.

In fact, it was the man who was currently standing at the top of a frankly _petrifying _looking slide with two small hands clasped in his own.

"You know, I really don't think this is a good idea," he gulped, staring down over the edge, his eyes wide. "I mean, it's _practically _vertical." He glanced down at his miniature companions. "I mean, I injure myself very easily. _Ridiculously _easy. All elbows and knees me. My friend, Amy, says I attract accidents like….what did she say?" A scratch of the head and a frown. "Actually, I don't think I can repeat that…" He trailed off, his cheeks a little flushed before looking at them both, imploringly. "Are you _absolutely_ sure this is a good idea?"

"Yesh!" The child to his left yelled, jumping up and down, vigorously.

Shaking his head, the man turned to his other small friend. "And you?"

The other child nodded with a thumb in her mouth. Her eyes were round and sparkling with something akin to amusement.

"Well, I guess that settles it then," he stated, defeated, peering over the edge again and leaping back, closing his eyes. "Okay, we're gonna have to do this quickly. You ready?" He received two nods. "All right then. I'm an idiot. Let's go."

With that he sat down with his infant adrenaline-junkies and took at deep breath. It really did look _dizzyingly _steep. Who the hell invented drop slides anyway? Actually, he should probably know that.

"Go!" the little girl squealed and he felt a tug on his hand as she began to move impatiently.

"I'm going! I'm going! Geronimo!" the Doctor yelled as he threw himself and his neighbours to what could only be certain death.

"'ronimo!" his companions echoed.

It was one of the most horrible sensations he'd experienced in his life as he felt all his organs stay up in the air whilst the rest of his body plummeted down the length of the slide; the hard wood bumping against his pointed shoulder blades, painfully. It could have only lasted a few seconds but it felt like a life time. When he reached the bottom he had to wait a moment for all his insides to catch up and it felt equally as horrible as the feeling of losing them in the first place. How on earth could they all be in the right place after that?

Glancing over at his companions, he saw they were giggling madly, obviously having enjoyed the descent. The youth of today: absolutely bonkers.

Clambering to his feet, he caught sight of Amy who was standing at the barrier that cordoned off the landing area, her arms crossed and a wry smile on her face.

"You're as white as a sheet," she observed, gleefully. "I would never have believed you'd be scared of a _slide_."

"Never again!" the Doctor declared, firmly, stepping over through the gate at the bottom of the slide and promptly tripping over a raised bit of wood. "That. Did. Not. Happen."

"That so did," Amy laughed, clapping him on the back. "Not very elegant for a lord, are you?" Her heart dropped as she realised what she'd just said and she threw an apologetic look at the Doctor but he wasn't looking at her, he was busy fiddling with his sonic screwdriver.

"Okay then, kids, now I've done what you want, you'll let me take some readings for my research? Yes?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Now stand _completely _still. Imagine your playing musical statues."

The children complied, immediately, always up for a game.

Bending down, the Doctor carefully ran the glowing green tip of his screwdriver over each of the children. The little girl let out a small giggle as it reached her neck and shied away slightly.

"Tickles!"

"Yes," the Doctor said, taking a momentary glance at the end of the sonic and almost blinding himself in the process. He blinked and pointed it back where it was meant to be. "Sorry about that. There isn't a setting to turn off the _tickliness_."

The child grinned widely at him, showing rows of small, white teeth, and reached around his extended arm to catch his hair in her hands.

"Hey, hey, hey," the Doctor chuckled and tried to extricate her as she wrapped the brown locks round her tiny fingers. "What are you doing?"

"I like your hair," she said, quietly.

"Well, thank you, Daisy."

"It's very soft." She smiled again, stroking his hair, gently, like she would a puppy.

"I'm glad but I'm all done so do you want to let go now?"

Daisy shook her little, fair-haired head. "No."

"But I need my hair back. Unfortunately, it's got to stay on my head."

"I want it."

"Daisy," the Doctor smiled, sweetly, at her, "Please?"

Strong fingers carefully prised away her small, sticky hands with enough pressure to make her release her hold but enough tenderness for it not to upset her. A perfect balance and one only someone as kind and thoughtful as the Doctor could manage. Amy observed the conversation and the actions between child and alien with something close to awe. She had known he cared for children but she'd never really seen him interact with one like this in the flesh. It only made her feel even worse for him when she remembered the vivid images that he'd shown her and the beautiful family that he had lost.

"Right." The Doctor uncoiled his knees and patted both children on the head. "Thank you both very much, Daisy and Edgar. Now, run along and play. And don't go to sleep, you got that? Not until the Doctor says you can."

"Okay!" they both trilled and then scurried off to join their friends.

Twirling the sonic screwdriver in his skilled fingers, the Time Lord turned to face his flame-haired companion with a large grin on his lips. Amy quirked her own mouth into a grin too, in an effort to look equally optimistic because he had _no_ idea that she had just been watching him and thinking the things that she had. He hadn't a clue what was going on in her head. He couldn't sense the sympathy that she felt so strongly for him or the anger on his behalf. And she wasn't going to tell him because now wasn't the right time. She wondered whether there would ever be a _right _time. Probably not. He'd never asked for her sympathy and never would and she understood that but she just could help _feeling _the way she did. If those memories were tearing her up inside, she didn't even like to fathom what it was doing to the Doctor.

"You all right, Pond?" A pair of fingers snapped in her face. She must have zoned out.

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry." Amy blinked, rapidly, to try and bring herself back to the present.

The Doctor's intense hazel eyes bore into hers as he stood – as usual – way too close, invading her personal space. "You look a little…peaky." Concern flashed across his face and a couple of fingers reached up to pull down the skin beneath her eyes. She batted him away, quickly.

"I'm _fine_. It's these kids we need to be worried about. Did you find anything on those two?"

For a second, he looked like he wasn't going to drop it and Amy felt her heart thud, nervously, in her chest but then he jumped away from her. A knot had taken up residence between his eyebrows again. "Nope, na-da, not a sausage." His concentrated gaze roved the room again. "I just don't understand it."

He looked lost in thought and Amy decided that she didn't want to interrupt him in case she messed up some massively complicated deductive process that was occurring in there. She could almost hear his neurons fizzling with the speed that the information was shooting round his brain. In fact, she could imagine a firework display of sparks and Catherine wheels and rockets exploding inside that solid skull of his.

Suddenly, he slapped his forehead and spun on the spot. "Oh!"

Amy stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate but he didn't. "Oh…what?" Still no reply. "Oh _what_, Doctor?"

"It's clever!" he said, his eyes wide and manic, "And extremely very not good at all." He whipped round to look at her. "Did you find Felix?"

"Huh?" Amy was thrown. "What?"

"Did you find him?"

"Yeah, I did. He's over in the ball pit. That's why I came to find you."

"I need him. Come on."

The Doctor grabbed her hand and dragged her in the direction of the ball pit. He had the look of a bloodhound about him. He'd caught the scent and now he wasn't losing it for anything. His nose was on the path to the answer. Amy had no choice but to tag along for the ride.

Stumbling to a halt outside the entrance to the netted ball pit, the Doctor finally let go of her hand and threw himself into the area, sending multicoloured balls flying. With an arched eyebrow, Amy followed a little more delicately and elegantly. It was rather disconcerting to be back in a ball pit after all this time and to experience the sensation of the spherical objects around her shifting and rolling and knocking, loudly, together in her wake.

"Ah, _Felix_!" the Doctor greeted the youngster, cheerily. "I need a hand, if you don't mind?"

Being, once again, accosted by this eccentric-looking stranger in a bow tie and a tweed jacket seemed to be a little much for the young boy because his eyes widened and he looked rather frightened. He scrambled backwards as much as he could; all the balls spilled, noisily, around him.

"Doctor, I think you're scaring him," Amy hissed. "Why do you need him in particular anyway?"

"Because he's _ginger_."

"Ginger?" Amy repeated, perplexed. "What's that got to do with _anything_?"

"He's got a more unique dimensional print."

"A _what_? Are you making that up?"

"Look, Felix, I'm not going to hurt you. Promise!" The Doctor held up his hands in a gesture of friendship. Unfortunately, it didn't serve to help his balance much because he toppled over, face first, into the balls. "Whoooops!" he yelped as he vanished from sight.

Moments later he resurfaced, balls cascading from his shoulders, face a picture of comic shock. "Well, that was unexpected. I must admit this me is a little clumsier." He dusted himself off and adjusted his jacket looking a little flustered. However, when he glanced up at the boy again, he saw that the child was giggling; freckled face stretched into a beaming smile.

"Ah, a little slapstick always makes things better, doesn't it?" The Doctor clapped his hands together and grinned. "Did that on purpose," he mouthed to Amy, winking knowingly.

"You _so _did not!" the girl replied, incredulously, throwing a ball at him. It caught him on the nose and bounced off.

"Hey! Ow! That was uncalled for."

"Don't lie then," Amy retorted and stuck out her tongue.

Felix was watching them both with stunned blue eyes, his mouth hanging open a little. He'd never seen grown ups fight like children before. His mum never threw balls at his dad when she was angry; she just yelled at him and didn't cook him any dinner. These couldn't be proper grown ups then. They were a special type of not-grown up and therefore he liked them; especially, the one with the bow tie who acted like a clown.

Finally, the pair seemed to come to a stalemate and decided that it was about time to include him to. They both swivelled round to face him.

"Now, Felix, as I said, I need your help," the bow-tie man said.

"For what?" he asked, cautiously. Usually, when Mummy asked for help, he had to tidy the playroom and he wasn't falling for that this time.

"Well, you see, I want to use you to find out what's making your friends disappear. I need you to be very brave. Do you think you can do that?"

The bow-tie man looked at him with such earnestness that the small, fiery-headed boy found himself nodding in agreement. He wanted to brave, like the clever, handsome knights in the story book that he had at home. He wasn't sure whether he would be allowed to read that story book again though because he only ever read it when he was in bed and he wasn't allowed in bed now. That thought made him sad.

"Like a knight?" he asked, solemnly.

The bow-tie man's face lit up. "Yes! Exactly like a knight. I can tell we're going to get along, Felix. I'm the Doctor by the way and this is Amy."

"Hello," Felix said, politely. It felt strange saying hello because they'd already met but his mummy always told him to mind his manners so he was.

The Doctor waded towards him and plonked himself among the balls a couple of feet away. He still had a big grin plastered on his face which Felix thought was rather strange, because all the other grown ups looked very miserable, but also very nice. He didn't like it when the adults were sad.

"So, Felix, how old are you?"

"Four."

"Brilliant. Four is a brilliant age; definitely the best one in my opinion. I remember being four and driving my mum bananas. I liked to make trouble; lots of trouble. Not that I'm saying you should! Where's your mum, anyway?"

As the Doctor spoke he brought several objects out of the pocket within his jacket and Felix stared at them with interest. There was a shiny long pen thing with a green light on the end and another gadget that looked like a handheld gaming device and a set of jangling bracelets that had lots of wires and bits hanging off them. Because he was so interested in the range of devices that Doctor had, Felix forgot to answer the question he had been asked and suddenly registered the silence that had fallen.

"Where's you mum, Felix?" the Doctor asked again, a few creases lining his forehead as he exchanged a look with Amy.

"She's at work," Felix replied, quietly, "And so is Daddy."

"Right. I guess I won't be able to ask their permission then," the man said, scratching his head. "Well, anyway, can I ask you to put these bracelets on?"

"Doctor, are you sure we should be doing this?" Amy whispered in his ear, anxiously, "I mean he's just a kid."

"And it's just the kids that are vanishing isn't it, so will you let me continue?" the Doctor snapped, perhaps a little more harshly than he'd intended. Amy fell silent. "Now can you put the bracelets on, Felix?"

Felix shook his head and tucked his hands in his armpits. "Bracelets are girly."

"Oh no," the Doctor exclaimed, quickly, "Not these ones. These are special boy _bands_. I mean, look at all the wires and buttons on them." He plucked at the lose circuitry. "That's about as manly as you can get. All your friends will be jealous."

"Okay," the boy smiled, toothily.

Gently, the Doctor slotted the bracelets over Felix's small, bird-like wrists and adjusted the size so they would fit as snugly as they could against his skin. Then he pressed several buttons on the metal and calibrated them with the device in his hands.

"Right. Now. Yes, that's done," he said, scanning the screen, "And this means that I will know _immediately _when anything locks onto you and where the source is coming from because they're doing this very sneakily. Very sneakily _indeed_. I'm not quite sure how but I'll work it out but as I said, it's very, very clever – and _sneaky_!"

The Doctor looked up and saw that the boy was staring at him with an uncomprehending expression.

"Well, yes, anyway, that doesn't matter. Nothing matters except that you'll be _completely _safe. Completely. I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise."

"Doctor," Amy muttered, worriedly, from his side but he ignored her.

"Now, Felix, I need you to go to sleep."

**AN - Well, I enjoyed Doctor Who last night. I liked the more personal feel it had to it; the exploration of the characters and stuff. :) However, I'm looking forward to next week's even more! So much love for James Corden. And James Corden and Matt Smith together is a sight I just can't wait for. **

**Thank you very much for the reviews as well! Please review again because I have four exams in the next two days and I really, really need something to uplift my spirits. :(**


	11. Chapter 11

Sky-blue eyes stared at the Doctor from beneath a haphazard fringe; curled flames licking at two sapphires. Smooth, freckled skin creased slightly in bewilderment as the child processed and considered what he was being asked to do. It went against all that he had been told by the adults and he didn't like to make them angry or upset but this was the Doctor and he was clever and knew stuff. Plus, he was a non-grown up and he was special so therefore he should be trusted.

Rubbing his ear, ruefully, the youngster chewed his pink lips and then said, "Okay but you'll have to tell me a story 'cos I can't sleep without a story."

The Doctor contemplated him for a second before a massive grin broke out across his face. "Right, yes, of course. No bedtime is complete without a story. What do you want it to be about?"

"I don't mind," Felix shrugged, shyly.

"Amy, any ideas?" the Doctor queried, glancing at his friend. She pondered his question for a moment and then a small smile quirked the corners of her lips.

"Actually, yeah, I do."

"Great!" the Doctor exclaimed, "Do you want to make yourself comfortable, Felix?"

It wasn't exactly the easiest thing, to go to sleep in a ball pit when all the stuff around you was shifting and moving and generally being disturbing. Felix wasn't even sure where to start because as soon as he started to lie down he sank and that wasn't a nice feeling, especially as all the balls seeped on top of him; suffocating him. Frowning, he scrambled up to the surface again and looked around. The Doctor and Amy seemed to be managing just fine.

Quietly and steadily, he waded over to the bow-tie wearing man and promptly sat in his lap. The Doctor looked a little surprised and lifted his arms into the air as the boy settled down.

"Oh, wow, hello there Felix. You're in my lap," he said - doing a rather good job of stating the obvious.

"I can't sleep on the balls," Felix stated, simply, and curled up against the man's broad chest. He felt the thumb - which his mother often doused in chilli powder to stop him sucking - creep into his mouth. _Now _he was comfortable. Against his ear he could both hear and feel the thudding of the Doctor's heart. It sounded a bit funny but the rhythm was very comforting.

"Aw…." Amy murmured a little way off, "He's so _cute_."

"Are you going to tell him the story?" the Doctor asked, deciding that it was kinder and probably safer to leave the little boy be. Gently, he wrapped an arm around the child.

"Er…yeah. Right, Felix, there was this man and he lived in a blue box. I know it sounds a bit odd but bear with me." She paused when she caught sight of the Doctor's raised eyebrows and just grinned at him. "Anyway, yeah, so he lived in a blue box and this blue box, well, it could travel in time and space. I mean, it didn't just do one; it could do _both_. Now this guy was a little bit crazy, a little bit dorky-"

"Oi, watch it," the Doctor protested, softly, so as not to disturb the child.

"_And _he was pretty much a bona-fide genius," Amy conceded, reluctantly. Then she continued, "Yeah, so he travelled through time and space and saved people and planets. Now, he had a pretty awesome companion that went with him wherever he went and together they defeated monsters and aliens and these _really _scary Weeping Angels but I won't tell you about them anymore 'cos it'll give you nightmares. So yeah, he saved the Earth a lot of times and then just moved on to save some more worlds but, you see, Felix, no one ever thanked him."

The Doctor looked sharply at her.

"And they really should have 'cos he didn't need to save them. He could have just walked away but he never did. He always had to help, even if it meant risking his own life, which I don't think is really fair…."

"_Amy_," the Doctor interrupted; his voice low and warning.

"What?" Amy found herself staring him out. "It's the truth."

For awhile they just stared at one another, almost at a stalemate, daring each other to say something about what had just been revealed. Their eyes clashed like tumbling waves in a storm – dark and intense. A muscle jumped, erratically, in the Doctor's jaw as if he was about to speak but then a small snore distracted them. Glancing down, his eyes wide, the Doctor realised that Felix was asleep.

Feeling his hearts leap in his chest, he quickly grabbed the tracking device and held the screen close to his face, careful not to disturb Felix until he had the readings. His brain quickly processed the data that was being expressed on the small glowing rectangle and he realised that hundreds teleporting beacons were already attaching themselves to the small boy, ready to whisk him away. Well, he wasn't about to let that happen. Punching something into the gadget, the Doctor disabled the beacons and then focussed on where they had been sent from: a coordinate somewhere in space. If he had been human then he would have had to jot the twenty digit number down but being a Time Lord, well, there was no such need.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, triumphantly, "There you are. But who are you?"

As he pondered this, he wasn't aware of what was occurring in his arms until the frantic cry of Amy wrenched him from his thoughts.

"_Doctor_!"

Looking away from the small screen, he suddenly realised that the boy in his arms had been enveloped in a peculiar light and his body was growing more and more translucent by the second. What had once been vibrant red hair was now faded; like someone had spilt water on a painting, the colours were just trickling away.

"No, no, no," the Doctor yelped, checking his device again and grabbing at the boy, "Don't do this, Felix. I've disabled the beacons. This shouldn't be happening!"

"Do something, Doctor!" Amy shouted, scrambling towards them just as the almost transparent Felix slipped off the Doctor and began to disappear into the balls. He looked like a ghost.

Both of them scrabbled uselessly at him, throwing balls everywhere as they dug down and tried to retrieve him. The Doctor was still muttering no, his face pale and his features contorted in shock. Amy registered there was a certain desperation about the way he reached for the disappearing boy with flailing arms and sent a cascade of multi-coloured balls to the other side of the pit.

"Felix!" they both yelled, frantically, but it was too late. The boy had vanished.

After a moment's stunned pause, the Doctor yanked himself up with a grunt and then turned and sprinted, with surprising swiftness and grace, through the balls and out of the play area. Amy struggled after him, finding her long legs to be quite effective in the sea of spheres before she too flew out of the netted entrance and ran down the carpeted floor towards the TARDIS. Its glowing presence was rather comforting at a time like this; especially when she bashed, hard, through the front doors and splurged onto the familiar main deck.

"We have to get him…I promised….I won't let this happen again…I shouldn't have….if they….I promised…"

Words spewed from the Doctor's mouth in a furious torrent as he danced at a dizzying pace around the console: setting coordinates and cranking levers; stabbing buttons and spinning dials. The phrases were broken up, almost like a crackling old radio, but Amy got the gist and understood how completely and utterly guilty the Time Lord was feeling. Although, she _had _wondered whether this was a safe idea in the first place, she really doubted whether now was a good time to say 'I told you so'. She, herself, should have been more forceful in stopping the Doctor before things got to this. That's what she was there for, wasn't it? To rein him. To remind him to slow down and think.

"Doctor," she said, loudly, trying to be heard over the grating of the TARDIS and the Doctor's nonsensical rambling, "Doctor, you need to calm down and think about this. Do you even know where we are going or who were are facing?"

Abruptly, he stopped what he was doing – his hand hovering over a switch – and stared at her. "I have a vague idea," he replied, darkly.

"And?"

"Daleks," he spat, venomously. "Only their technology could overcome mine like that. They're the only ones that advanced."

Amy recalled the creatures that they'd met in the underground bunker with fear striking her heart. They were the Doctor's arch enemy, his most evil nemesis; he'd admitted so himself. And they were going straight to their ship without any plan at all. Somehow, she knew that this really wasn't a good idea but she also understood why the Doctor was acting as recklessly as he was….because he wasn't going to lose another child. She doubted whether he could take that.

A small shiver juddered down her spine and she tried desperately not to let it show; the Doctor didn't need her getting scared on top of everything else. Digging sharp nails into the skin of her upper arms to focus her mind somewhere else, she swiftly walked over to the control panel and attempted to work out what the Doctor was doing. It was impossible.

"But if it is the Daleks," she said, slowly, trying to be pragmatic, "Then surely we'll need like….a plan?" Tentatively, she caught his arm and spun him away from his tweaking and bopping and banging. "A method of attack?"

"I'm working on it. It's a plan in progress."

"A plan in progress?" Amy repeated, sceptically. "But what you're actually trying to say is 'well, actually, I haven't a clue but we'll wing it'?"

"Precisely." The Doctor finally cracked a grin. "Everything will be fine and dandy."

A bit of the old buzz had come back to the time traveller now he'd had time to calm down and bring his incredible mind back to earth. There was less of the unruly, dark Doctor and more of the calm, intelligent Doctor and Amy definitely preferred him that way. Perhaps, he too had realised that the only way he could help Felix was by keeping a cool head.

There was a droning of engines as the TARDIS slowed down and came to a stand still. They had landed.

"Into the wasps' nest then," Amy said, her voice wobbling a tiny bit.

"Into the _hornets'_ nest," the Doctor corrected her, softly, before pushing open the doors of the TARDIS and peering outside. What he saw made him very, very angry.

**AN - Okay, on the one hand I should be very happy as you guys are giving me wonderful reviews and I'm nearing the end of my exams. One left! Wuuuuuuyah! However, I had a very depressing day where Biology and English Literature generally trolloped me. :( Its not fair. I was prepared but they asked stupid questions. And the extract in English sucked! Sorry to rant. Just very annoyed so I had to vent my feelings by writing. **

**Thanks for all the luck you guys wished me though. Please review! **


	12. Chapter 12

There were rows and rows of them, arranged like tin soldiers on a little boy's bedroom carpet: legs rigid as if they were rods of metal and stiff arms snapped into their sides. Smooth faces were as still as stone; unfeeling and regimented. There wasn't a single twitch of a muscle or flicker of an eyelid and this suggested they had been completely immobilized. Frozen where they stood like an army eternally awaiting the signal for battle to commence.

Thousands and thousands of _children_. It made the Doctor boil inside to see them here in what essentially looked like a giant warehouse; a storage room. He sprang out of the TARDIS and marched over to the nearest youngster, clicking his fingers in front of her face. There was no reaction so he knew instinctive reflexes had been disabled. Gently, he pressed his fingers at either side head and probed inside her mind – her brain's activity had been reduced to a very low level, only enough to keep her heart pumping and keep her alive. He slipped out of her psyche and removed his fingers, roughly rubbing a worried hand over his chin, concern shining in his eyes.

"Are they alive?" Amy appeared by his side, her gaze full of alarm.

"Just," the Doctor muttered, his tone simmering with anger. He turned on his heel and headed for what looked like a control panel on the far side of the room.

As soon as he registered the activation method for starting the system, he knew that he was definitely dealing with his most hated enemy. There was slot especially for the extended metal arm of a Dalek. Flicking out his sonic screwdriver, he buzzed the panel but, of course, it was deadlocked. He had figured as much. Even so, it angered him that he couldn't release these children immediately because they didn't deserve to be kept like this – it was degrading and unnatural. A burst of fury erupted from him and he slammed his palms against the hard, metal computer. He didn't usually vent his feelings through violence but this was just frustrating.

"I don't think that's going to help, do you?" Amy said, quietly. Her eyes scanned the myriad of buttons on the panel and soon gave up trying to decipher what it all meant. If the Doctor had already tried and failed then she had no hope. "You can't make them normal again?"

"No, I need a _Dalek_," the Doctor replied, bitterly, spinning round again, his tweed jacket flying out with the movement. His dark hair rippled with the speed at which he moved, striding across the room. "Come on, Amy. We need to find out what's going on here."

"I don't see Felix," Amy said, worriedly, running to catch up with him. "Where is he?"

"There are probably more storage areas," the Doctor answered, blackly; "They've taken _thousands _and_ thousands_ of children. But what for? Why do they need humans? What are they hoping to _achieve_?" He used his sonic to flick open the door in front of them. "They despise any non-Dalek race."

Amy glanced back at the uniformed lines of children statues. "It looks like an army."

"That's what I'm worried about," the Doctor replied, offering her a grim expression. His normally sparkling eyes were stormy with distress and outrage as he could only contemplate what the Daleks were doing this time. They survived again and again and he could never stop them. No matter what he did they returned….like _rats_; seeping through all the cracks in the wall of the universe, spreading their evil like the plague and infesting everything and everyone with their _rot_. Their _stinking _rot.

The corridor they found themselves in was wide and futuristic – like something out of Star Trek – with bluish panels of light down the walls and a smooth white floor. A few doors led off the passage and Amy wondered where they led: another warehouse? An engine room? A Dalek spa? What did Daleks do with their free time anyway? What did any evil invaders do when they _weren't_ invading? Probably perfect their Machiavellian ways, she guessed. Did Daleks have a drawing board? They didn't have hands so surely not…

As her eyes wandered, they fell upon the Doctor – as they usually did – and the tenseness with which he held himself, how hyperaware he suddenly seemed to be. Every sound, even the most miniscule, caught his attention. Amy didn't think she'd ever seen him this serious. Usually, even if they were exploring some new place or defeating a monster, he still had time for jokes and small talk and always gave the impression of being eternally laid-back; a real space cow boy. Now, though, it looked like someone had jammed metal bar between his shoulder blades and another up the back of his neck. If he held himself any tighter and strained any further then Amy was sure he'd pull a muscle. She could see chords of tendons practically bursting out of the base of his neck. A vein wiggled an uneven line along his temple – like a solitary estuary.

"Do have something on my face?" the Doctor's voice cut through Amy's thoughts and she felt her shoulders jump a little. Her heart jolted.

"Hmmm….er, what?" she stammered, trying to act nonchalant.

The Doctor gave her a pointed look. "You were staring at me."

"Just thinking about stuff." Amy shrugged.

"Right…" the Doctor said, nodding in a very unconvinced manner.

Seeing that he wasn't impressed and not wanting him to think she was eyeing him up or checking him out - or whatever - in such a serious, dangerous situation, Amy blurted out, "You're acting differently. You're tenser. Angrier."

"Well, of course I'm angry," the Doctor declared, glancing at her again, "They've taken the children, thousands, no probably _millions_ of children from Earth without even asking."

"But it's not just about these children though, is it?" Amy panted, curiously. "There's something more." Their pace was now practically a jog as they power walked down the corridor. The Doctor's boots thumped; her Converse squeaked - like frightened mice.

"No," the Doctor dropped his head a little, "No it isn't. You're right." Sadness emanated from him in waves and if they hadn't been moving then Amy would have thrown her arms around him. "It's about the fact they _always _live when everyone I _love _has to die."

"They killed your race, didn't they?" Amy assumed; her hand flying to her mouth. Now she could understand the hatred; the unrestrained loathing. Why he had flown off the handle when he saw them again in Winston Churchill's bunker. And she hated them too, for taking that wonderful family away from such a special man.

However, when she looked at the Doctor, expecting a nod of affirmation, she didn't receive one. There was something else – something _big_ – that he wasn't telling her. His eyes said it all. They were dark and swirling with emotion; an emotion that, if Amy didn't know better, she would have said was guilt. But that didn't make any sense.

"Doctor?" she probed, cautiously, aware he was in a very unbalanced, delicate mood.

"They had a hand in it yes," the Doctor replied, rather cryptically, his gaze never meeting hers. "But now is not the time to dwell in the past." He smacked his hands together before placing one in his pocket to retrieve his sonic screwdriver. "We're here."

In front of them stood a tall, arched doorway that was surrounded by an array of archaic looking black symbols. They stood out starkly against the white walls – sharp, unfeeling lines; cold and blunt. Amy shivered and was about to ask what they meant when she realised that the Doctor was already activating the key pad beside the door, the silver of the sonic protruding from his hand like an extension of his limb. A telltale green light shimmered from the end.

There was a clang and Amy guessed that signalled the door was open. The Doctor turned to look at her; his face set with determination and a fiery quality that she rarely saw in his usually warm, soft face. It hardened his features. He didn't look like her gentle, funny Raggedy Doctor anymore. If the Daleks could bring out this kind of darkness in such a pure-hearted man, she didn't like to fathom what atrocities and massacres they had committed and had the potential to commit.

"You ready, Amy?" he asked, gravely, "Because I really have no idea what could happen in there. You know, you can just turn round and go back to the TARDIS. She'll take you home. I won't think anything less of you; in fact, I'll think more of you."

Amy stared at him for a few moments, hardly believing that he really needed to ask her whether she'd follow him into peril and, potentially, a bloody death. There _wasn't _another option for her. She hadn't ever and wouldn't ever consider leaving him; especially not when he was like this; when he was as fragile and unpredictable as glass balanced on a knife edge.

"Well, you're gonna have to be disappointed then," the flame-haired, Scottish woman replied, fiercely. "Come on. Let's face these Daleks together, eh? You and me against the world."

"Always." The Doctor managed a strained grin. "You truly are amazing Amy Pond."

Amy smiled back. "Well, that's always nice to hear before you go and stand in a room full of pure evil space-aliens with guns. Thanks. You're pretty great too." She pecked him on the cheek. "Shall we?" she asked, taking his hand. Surprisingly, his cool palms were bone-dry and slightly rough whereas hers were hot and clammy. She wondered whether he was scared. Probably not, the anger had most likely enveloped all other feelings.

"We shall," the Doctor agreed, stepping forward and causing the doors to automatically slide apart. This was definitely Star Wars-esque in Amy's opinion, especially as when they appeared on the other side they found themselves in a massive control room.

The walls were coated in a shiny silver metal and several of those walls were dedicated entirely to complicated machinery that Amy could only dream of being able to operate. Not only were there controls and equipment on the walls but also dotted around were peculiar looking black computers and other technologically advanced apparatus. She could understand how they were able to pull off such a stunt as stealing all of Earth's children in their sleep with expertise like this.

And there _they _were. Five large, pepper-pot shaped creatures that would have blended in with the rest of the machinery if they weren't such lurid colours: red, blue, orange, yellow and white. "They look like Ipods," she murmured to herself, trying to maintain some semblance of normality, "Or Happy Meal toys - you could collect them."

The Doctor snorted slightly. "They've had a paint job."

"Not a very good one," Amy replied, quietly. Humour was her way of coping in dangerous situations. It was usually the Doctor's too; that's why they got on so well, bantering even when their heads were on the chopping block.

Although all the Daleks had initially been facing the opposite direction, they must have registered the opening of the door or the sound of their voice because, slowly, and in a frankly sinister manner, they swivelled round – head first and then the rest of the body followed.

"INTRUDERS!" one of them grated.

"Doc-tooooor!" the red one screeched, "He is here. The Doctor is here."

"Yes I am," the Doctor replied, calmly. "And, as per usual, I'm here to stop whatever dastardly plans you've concocted. Now, what is it this time: build an army of 'superior' super Daleks?" His tone was scathing and oozing anger. As he spoke, he strode across the room, shoving his sonic screwdriver into one of the machines. The Daleks swivelled to watch him, obviously not quite sure what to do with the apparently suicidal Time Lord. "Or conquer the universe?" He paused, glaring at them, his hand hovering over a panel of buttons. "Or kill every living creature you can get your ugly stalks on? Eh? Don't you ever get tired of this _unending _bloodshed?" Throwing his arms wide, the Doctor was shouting now, spittle flying from his lips. "Oh but no, you don't, because you don't have a compassionate circuit in your cold, dead bodies."

"We are not dead," the blue Dalek whined, his gun wobbling dangerously. "We will _kiiiillll _you. Exterminate!" Amy gasped.

However, no ray of deadly blue light shot from the gun barrel. There was a strange clicking sound and the Dalek screeched in frustration. "Exterminate! Exterminate!" But still nothing happened.

"I disabled them didn't I?" the Doctor stated, proudly, "Not stupid me. _Well_, I can be but that's beside the point. I used the code, from the storage room and rerouted it through here. Didn't think to deadlock these controls did you? No match for me trusty sonic and this great big noggin of mine." He tapped the silver tool against his head, wincing rather comically as he did so. "You disabled those little kids' functions; I've disabled yours. Though perhaps not to such an extent. Speaking of which, brilliant piece of technology, I'll give you that."

"Exterminate! Exterminate!" the Dalek's continued to drone.

A half smile, crossed with a hint of disdain graced the Doctor's face. "You just don't know when to give up."

"Kill the Time Lord. Kill him. Kill him."

"Well, now we've levelled the playing field, I think its time to talk. Man to man…." He paused. "Or as the case may be: Time Lord to Dalek."

The Doctor strode out into the middle of the room, facing all five Daleks with a determined jut to his chin. His back was poker-straight and Amy couldn't help but admire the courage and dignity with which he held himself. A true lord of time and saviour of planets.

"So, why have you stolen Earth's children away? What result do you hope to achieve?"

"Why should we tell you? You are our enemy," the white Dalek croaked. Its glowing eyestalk focussed solely on the Doctor.

"You make a good point but I can make a better one. If you don't tell me then I'll immobilise you completely."

"You caaaan't!"

"Oh but I can." The Doctor directed his sonic in the direction of the machine he had been fiddling with. "One click and you're Dalek statues. Useless as plastic toys." He threw a grin at Amy. "Sooooo…go on. Tell. Me. Your. Plan." He emphasised each word individually, forcibly.

There was silence in the room and Amy got the impression that the Dalek's were trying to work out whether he was bluffing or not. Even she couldn't tell and usually she could just about guess when the Doctor had no idea what he was doing and was clutching at straws. Of course, they were always very flexible straws and he bent them to his advantage in the end. Well, that's what she was hoping for this time.

The white Dalek – that seemed to be the leader – flashed its lights and began to speak. "Humans are weeeeeak. They feel too much. They could not harm their children and that will be their downfall. We shall turn their young against them and they will be poooowerless!"

It took a moment for Amy to process what they were implying but her companion already understood perfectly.

"I never knew Daleks could be so _inventive,_"the Doctor spat, his eyes flashing with undisguised fury. "It's just a shame that inventiveness involves the destruction of yet another race. You never change. But why Earth? Why the humans?"

"Humans are weeeeak," the Dalek repeated, "And we need their planet to rebuild our race. Then we will rule the universe."

"You could have chosen an uninhabited planet," the Doctor growled, his anger bubbling inside him like a pot coming to boil.

"But then we would not have you, Doctor. Your love of the human race is known throughout all of time and space. Your _weakness _for them."

The Doctor glanced at Amy and thought of little Felix and all the friends that he'd had in years gone by; all the wonderful, wonderful people he'd loved and sometimes lost. They were the people who made him the man he was now. They had shaped him with all their individual personalities and peculiar but frankly brilliant _human-ness_. With sparks dancing in his eyes, the Time Lord turned back to stare intensely at his arch enemies; the destroyers of his world.

"And I'm _proud _of that weakness," he declared, emphatically, before continuing, "Not that I'd call it a weakness, not really; more like the best weapon I could ever be blessed with because, if there is anything I've learnt from the humans, its to love life and _never _give up on it or the people you care about. And _you - Daleks -_could never hope to understand that and that is why you will always _lose_."

**AN - Okay, cheesy, I know. But hey, its a kids show, what do you expect? :-D**

**Thanks for the loverly reviews. Please please review some more!**


	13. Chapter 13

Bouffant-haired and wild-eyed, his whole body tense with the gravity of the situation and the metaphorical tightrope he was so precariously balanced on, the Doctor was a formidable sight. He held his shoulders straight and his angular chin high like a brave warrior awaiting the actions of the enemy – even if they could potentially end in his execution. For once, the Doctor didn't even have it in his mind to _run_. This was a stand off and one that he was determined would end in the destruction of the Daleks; once and for all. He had the technology at his fingertips; circuits in the sonic screwdriver crackled eagerly, almost in anticipation.

Although his 'trigger finger' was itching, the Doctor couldn't help but pry some more into the plans of the Daleks because, after all, that was what he did. He wouldn't travel the universe and poke his nose into other people's business if he wasn't just the teensy bit – okay, _very _– nosy. He liked it when people informed him of the 'big plan' and all the details of it; though often he liked to have a crack at guessing parts of their plans himself. That was part of the fun; part of the puzzle.

"So…." he said, casually twirling the sonic screwdriver in his long fingers, aware that the Daleks' eye stalks were focused on its every movement, "This plan…" The Doctor enunciated each word like a professor talking to a particularly inept student. "It involves using human children as an army – very _Dalek _I must admit." He tapped the sonic against a piece of machinery and listened to the metallic sound it made upon contact. "And you believe the human race will not kill their young…and, of course, you are correct. Bunch of offspring-loving-saps, our humans." He grinned at Amy who smiled back weakly. "Anyway, so why did you take such young ones? They're hardly strong _fighters_. I know three year olds that still trip over their own feet let alone wield any kind of _weapon_. What use is that to you?"

"The younglings have a less complicated dimensional print," the red Dalek grated, simply, "And they are unconscious more often so we can transport them here."

"You mean _asleep _more often?" the Doctor clarified and paused, deep in thought. Suddenly, he clicked his fingers. "And you took them as soon as they were asleep because they were more vulnerable. Their bodies were only providing the basic functions needed to maintain life during sleep and that made it easier for you to teleport them and completely immobilise them. A cunning, cold-blooded strategy." The Doctor's expression was dark by the time he had finished.

The Dalek's lights flashed. "That is correct."

"And then you'll use mind control to turn them against their parents and make them fight beyond their capabilities. As soldiers rather than toddlers."

"Human bodies are soft!" the orange Dalek interrupted, rolling back and forth as if it was excited – which of course it couldn't be as Daleks did not feel emotions. The Doctor glared daggers at it. "And they are damaged so very easily. We make them fight and then they fall but we have millions to replace the damaged so it does not matter. They do not need to be good fighters."

Amy found her stomach turning in revulsion at the Dalek's throwaway attitude towards the lives of small, innocent children who had barely even had a chance to live properly. She supposed their disturbing detachment was to be expected because she knew that the Doctor didn't just _hate _for the hell of it and that there had to be a good reason for his complete loathing of the Daleks. Now she had plain evidence: these aliens thought nothing of slaughtering millions of children for their own ends. What made it even more harrowing was that they fully understood that the children were not built to win a fight and they didn't care about it.

Anger bubbled, hotly, inside her.

"Unbelievable," the Doctor hissed through gritted teeth, his hazel eyes flashing with unbridled fury, "I didn't think it was possible for you to sink any lower than your actions in the Time War but you've just surpassed yourself." His voice was low and dangerous.

Time War? Amy's ears picked out the two words immediately, wondering whether they were a clue to the Doctor's dark past. However, she dismissed them for now, deciding to store the titbit of information for a later date. The Doctor would probably never have disclosed it to her had the Daleks not been present and his emotions heightened; restraint _lost_. That meant it _must _be very important to him.

"The killer of his own kind," one Dalek warbled, almost maliciously, "Has adopted a new race - a new planet - and this one too will fall. The Doctor cannot protect the humans. The Doctor cannot protect the _humans_! He is powerless. Just as he was powerless in the Time War-"

"_Be quiet_!" the Doctor's vicious snap startled Amy and she felt her heart rate quicken, wondering what the Dalek had meant. She didn't understand. It didn't make _sense_. "I was _not _powerless then and neither am I _now_. Don't you forget who is holding the sonic screwdriver here!"

The white Dalek made a strange noise and its lights flashed. If Amy hadn't known better then she would have said it was laughing but Daleks didn't even know what laughter was. They had no capacity for it. However, the sinister, artificial sound made her feel cold and anxious inside; insides twisting themselves in knots. Disconcerted, she glanced at the Doctor and saw, with a shiver, that he too looked completely perturbed by the creature's actions. The sonic screwdriver quivered in his hand, fingers tense and ready for anything.

"Ignorant Time Lord," the Dalek finally croaked, having suitably baffled and worried its audience, "If you immobilise us then we shall destroy the human children."

The Doctor's mouth opened and closed soundlessly as a screen was suddenly conjured up from nowhere. Without them noticing, the yellow Dalek had shuffled – or rolled? – surreptitiously over to one of the machines whilst the Doctor was preoccupied and had pressed its stalk against one of the receptors on the complex control panel. The screen showed the stunned humanoids a view of the inside of one of the massive hangars with the rows upon rows of toddlers. They remained stationary. That is until the yellow Dalek twisted the mechanism on the end of its motorized arm and then an ear splitting screaming filled the air.

"We will destroy them from the inside out," the white Dalek stated, stiffly.

"No!" the Doctor gasped, lurching towards the screen, his eyes wide with horror and his jaw gaping.

Amy was similarly horrified. "Stop! Stop it now!"

The children began dropping like flies, writhing in a great mass of bodies on the cold, hard floor of the storage area. It was soon hard to distinguish one child from another – they were just a sea of pain and torture. Deafening screaming continued to issue from both the screen and in the distance as the sound travelled through the walls to the control room. Usually, the not many noises could be heard in the ship but the crescendo of _millions _of children screaming in pain penetrated even the thickest obstacle. Amy registered that the Doctor looked physically sick; green and slack-jawed; and found that she too was feeling nauseous. The distress on the toddlers' smooth, innocent faces was plain to see.

"Stop this Daleks!" the Doctor shouted, furiously, "Stop this now or I will kill _you_."

"Relinquish yourself and the sonic device and we will allow the children to live."

For a while the Time Lord stared at his arch enemies and then his gaze returned to the screen where there were children inching closer and closer to death. His life or theirs. There was no competition. He wasn't about to see billions of children die – again – because of him. This time would be different. He couldn't do it twice; even if it was for the 'greater good'. From what he'd seen, there was no greater good.

Slowly, he lowered his sonic screwdriver and loosened his stance.

He nodded just the once.

The Dalek stopped the machine and the children all stopped writhing and jerking in such disjointed, arresting manner. It was a relief and the Time Lord felt the tightness in his chest dissipate.

"No! Doctor!" Amy burst out, fearfully. She rushed towards him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her. "You _can't_!"

"Amy," he said, solemnly, "I _have _to." He offered her a small smile. "I'm an old man and I can't see children suffer."

"You never just give up like this! What's _wrong _with you?" She shook him roughly. "Where are your undying spirit and your I-never-give-up-under-any-circumstances-whatsoever attitude? _Do_ something! If you give up they'll have _won_!" For a moment the Doctor observed her, silently, and she noticed a small spark of something fizzle in his eyes but it vanished as quickly as it came and he shook his head. Gently, he prised her death-like grip off his arm.

"Its over, Amy. This is what they want."

Amy flung her arms wide, sudden anger surging through her blood vessels. "Is this what they want or is this what _you _want?"

The Doctor glanced at her sharply. "What?"

"Are you sure your not just _giving up_ 'cos you _want _to die and this is the easiest way to do it? Just 'cos your family died. Just 'cos you lost your planet…." She paused and looked pointedly at him. "It doesn't mean you should feel guilty about surviving. It doesn't mean you should give up on life. That's what you told me." Finally, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin before adding. "And _you _said you don't like _hypocrites_."

Seeing that she wasn't getting through his thick skull, Amy released a howl of anger, stress and annoyance before wheeling round and charging towards the nearest Dalek. It was just a stupid pepper pot but it had ruined everything and she _hated _it more than she had ever hated anything in her life. It had destroyed hundreds of worlds; destroyed millions of lives; and cast an eternal shadow on the life of a man who had done nothing to deserve such guilt and grief. And she dearly wanted to make it pay for that destruction and heartbreak.

Red clouded her vision and she only vaguely heard the Doctor's alarmed yell as she threw herself at the Dalek. Hard metal clanged beneath her fists. It hurt but she didn't care. Anger and hatred deadened her senses and she hit the unforgiving surface harder and harder, feeling the skin on her hands begin to crack and bleed. Warmth spread from her knuckles and down the dips between her fingers. It felt sticky and strange; almost like the times she'd spilt tomato ketchup on herself as a child.

"Exterminate!" the Dalek screeched, waving its stalk at her. The other Daleks did the same, firing at the auburn haired human that was attacking their fellow.

Fortunately, they were still restricted by the Doctor's fiddling and therefore their guns clicked uselessly. If they hadn't been then Amy would have been a pile of dust on the floor. However, in her current state she didn't even consider that.

"Amy!" A pair of strong arms wrapped around her thrashing limbs and pulled her firmly back. "Amelia," the soft word was whispered in her ear and she felt the Doctor's warm breath on her skin. His presence calmed her a lot and soon she stilled in his grip. "Amy, that was _really _stupid." Offended, she glanced up at him with flashing eyes. "But…." He continued in an almost inaudible voice. "Also the _perfect _distraction." A familiar twinkle glittered in his hazel eyes and a miniscule smile twitched at his lips. "Thanks."

Suddenly, he let go of her and spun on the spot, clapping his hands together.

"Changed my mind," he said, affecting an apologetic expression and shrugging his shoulders.

"Kill the children!" the white Dalek ordered, immediately, "You have had your chance, Doctor."

Amy's hand flew to her mouth as the yellow Dalek twisted the activation pad on the control panel once more. Her gaze immediately leapt to the screen where the uniformed lines of the toddler army had rectified themselves. She was just waiting for them to drop down screaming again. Her heart thudded loudly into her ribcage.

But nothing happened.

"Ah," the Doctor said, sagely, "That's what happens when you ignore a Time Lord for just one second and allow him full access to your mainframe courtesy of my good friend, Mr Yellow Dalek here." He bounded over and tapped the stalk that was still connected to the panel, grinning broadly at Amy. "As I said, Pond, I needed a Dalek and I got one. The kids are completely free of the system now. Look." A long fingered hand pointed to the screen where the children were beginning to come round, lifting themselves off the floor and looking rather bemused.

"No!" the blue Dalek screeched, infuriated.

"Yes!" the Doctor shouted, jovially, in reply. However, as he was speaking, he was grabbing Amy's hand and leading her towards the exit. Quietly, he hissed in her ear, "Unfortunately, I had to reroute all the power to the children and in doing so lifted the freezing on the Daleks' guns. They're free to fire now. It won't take them long to realise. We have to go. _Now_."

"But the Daleks…." Amy murmured, "We can't just leave them to carry on. We need to _kill _them."

"My priority is getting those children off this ship. I managed to reverse the teleport on the majority but some are still left as the transport system was full. We need to get them into the TARDIS." He paused, blowing out from between pursed lips. "As usual, the Daleks will live to fight and kill another day but they'll leave Earth alone for now."

"Isn't there any…"

But the Doctor wasn't listening to her now. His grip tightened and his speed increased as they darted through the sliding doors and legged it down the corridor. Their respective shoes clanged loudly on the metal floor and their hearts pumped blood bursting with adrenaline around their bodies. Amy clamped her mouth closed and concentrated on running, flying along corridor after corridor, just following the Doctor and his incredible inbuilt navigation. Almost immediately they came upon the first warehouse that they had landed in and burst through the door, scanning the area inside. Most of the children had vanished, only a hundred or so remained.

"Right, Amy, you shepherd them into the TARDIS. Here's the key," the Doctor said, hurriedly, as he pressed the warm metal object into her palm, "And make sure they're all settled in. I'll round up the rest."

"Okay." Amy nodded, her fingers closing around the precious key. She bit her lip slightly as her companion spun on the spot and charged towards a nearby door, his sonic screwdriver held out in front of him so he could fly through the door with no trouble.

Once he was gone, she turned to the children and rushed over to them, trying to look authoritative and yet comforting at the same time. She understood they had had a very traumatic experience. They had merely gone to sleep and now had woken up in an alien spaceship – not that they probably realised that. Scared, confused young faces stared up at her and she felt her gut wrench in sympathy for them. She was just glad they could go home and be safe with their parents who would be overjoyed at their return. In fact, the whole world would be ecstatic at their safe return.

"Hello, guys," she smiled, widely, and offered them a small wave, "I'm Amy. I'm going to take you home, okay?"

She was met by several nods and also several wide-eyed looks of incomprehension. They were just _so _young. It was hard for them to understand anything that was happening to them. That was probably a good thing in the long run. They didn't need to remember this horrible event in their childhoods.

Gently, she leant over a took the hand of a small girl with black curly hair and cerulean blue eyes.

"Hello, sweetie, we're going to get your home to your mum. So can you follow me, yeah? Everyone else join hands like you're…er….playing ring a ring a roses or whatever…yeah…." Amy trailed off when she saw they weren't doing what she asked. Swiftly, she took another girl's small hand and connected it with the first girl's and then took another one. The chain grew steadily longer as the children realised what was happening and joined in of their own accord. "Okay," she said, satisfied they were all ready, "We're gonna go in this blue box. There'll be plenty of space for us all."

Trying to go fast but steady at the same time, Amy lead the procession of toddlers to the doors of the TARDIS and quickly unlocked them before leading them inside. She wasn't quite sure what to do with them once they _were _inside but they all seemed to stop and find a place of their own accord. Some sat on the floor whilst others stared at the pulsing heart of the timeship.

"Just…er…don't touch anything," she said, lamely, as she caught sight of one little boy tweaking one of the knobs on the control panel. "No touching. Got that?"

A sea of faces stared at her from various spots around the console room before nodding.

"Good," she said, scratching her head, awkwardly, "I'll be _right _back."

Ducking out of the front doors, she stepped back into the hangar and her gaze swept the now completely empty room for the Doctor. Where _was _he? Nervous energy built up inside coupled with a feeling of anxiety until she found herself shifting from foot to foot in order to try and dislodge the discomfort. It didn't work. The only thing that would reassure her would be the Doctor sticking his floppy-haired head round the door now and then zooming onto the TARDIS, completely in control and in the zone. She dearly hoped that nothing had happened to him.

"EXTERMINATE!" the spine-chilling screech reached Amy's ears from a distance and she felt herself shudder.

"Oh god, please, no," she whispered to herself, eyes frantically searching all of the doors. "Please, Doctor, _come on_. Don't do this to me."

And then there he was; bursting through the door in his usual manic fashion, limbs flailing and hair waving. Somehow, there was still a big grin plastered on his face as he shepherded about fifty children through the door.

"Come on. Don't dawdle. Quick smart," he ordered, sounding very much like the archaic professor-type he was dressed like. He waved them all by. "Straight through here and into the blue box. Like I told you. Come on, Henry, this is _sort of _a life or death situation, you know, you can tie your shoelaces in a minute."

_Geez, he'd even had time to learn their names _Amy thought wryly. Once they had all passed by him, he spun round and slammed the door closed, locking it deftly with his screwdriver. A flash of light glimmered on the other side, seeping through the cracks around the doorframe and the faint sound of exterminate could be heard.

"Phew, that was a close one," he exclaimed, eyes wide, as he brushed a hand through his wild hair.

Swivelling on the spot, he hurried after the children towards Amy and the TARDIS. She grinned at him and he offered her an ear-to-ear smile back. "We've done all right, Pond," he said and clapped her on the shoulder. His eyes sparkled with excitement and satisfaction as they loaded the children onto the spaceship. He looked even more pleased when he saw them all inside, filling every nook and cranny like the street urchins in Fagin's den in Oliver Twist. A hundred or so children in his TARDIS. A warm fuzzy feeling spread inside of him.

"That's everyone then." He rubbed his hands together. "Let's go."

In a movement that reminded Amy of Moses in the story she'd learnt about in Sunday School when she was little, the Doctor parted the sea of children with ease in order to reach the control panel. Immediately, they seemed to respect and revere him despite having just met him. That's what the Doctor did: made everyone trust him – usually with their lives. Amy just watched with pleasure and awe.

"Come on then," he addressed them all, "Let's get out of here and get you back to your parents. They'll all be delighted to see you. But you all better hold on. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

"You probably should have invested in seat belts," Amy quipped, slyly, and received an incredulous grin just before the TARDIS lurched into action.

**AN - Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for all the loverly reviews. Please review again! **

**Felix will appear next chapter. **


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